The Reality Beneath
by Riss Key
Summary: Sometimes reality isn't all it seems; sometimes yours isn't truly reality; sometimes it takes a child to bring you back to it; sometimes it takes a grown man; sometimes is seems to fall short of your expectations and dreams; sometimes... sometimes it's just better.
1. Chapter 1

The sentence's abrupt death made the green eyes dance as their owner passed the now silent security guard; they would know before he even exited the elevator. The sound of the landline being rapidly whispered into, in a voice not nearly as quiet as the owner believed it to be, sent a flash of white teeth gleaming in the dawn's light. Yes, they would know.

The hushed tones and disbelieving questions ringing out ceased when the elevator pinged to signal the opening of its doors. Slowly, the voices rose from silence, following the laughing green eyes as they faced first the hall, then the bullpen, then the balcony, finally settling on the stern expression of one Naval Criminal Investigative Service Director Leon Vance.

"DiNozzo!" The toothpick was removed in favor of the snarled name of the Agent looking up at Vance with such a blatantly amused expression. "What is the meaning of this?"

The smile of one _Very_ Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo faded, and he slipped his pack off his shoulder and set it on the floor next to his desk with his free hand, trying to appear unaffected by the harsh address of the head of the agency employing him. "Meaning of what exactly, Director?" The feigned ignorance and thinly veiled disrespect for the man's position evoked surprised looks and poorly concealed whispers from more than one spectator.

However, the shock was further intensified by the subsequent growl the comment elicited from the Director. "The presence of that… that…"

"Child?" Supervisory Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs made his presence known as he entered the bullpen, coffee in one hand, the elevator door closing behind him. The gossip momentarily turned to the ever-present conundrum of how Gibbs arrives without a single person hearing the ping, signaling the elevator's arrival. However, the items held firmly in Gibbs's usually empty hand quickly drew attention back to the more -as doubtful as it may seem- curious issue gracing the Navy Yard on this fine December day.

The sun shone brightly outside the building, reflecting off the snow and through the windows, accenting the oddity of the objects Gibbs was calmly depositing on DiNozzo's desk. "Tony." At his name, DiNozzo turned, his eyes alighting on the new additions to his desk's décor. "Rule eight."

Tony grinned sheepishly, his right hand lifting to sooth the restless stirring of the sleeping child held to his chest. "Yes Boss. Thank you." He murmured, shifting the left arm supporting the babe's weight slightly, tucking the child more securely under his chin. He gingerly leaned sideways, reaching for the back of his chair to turn it around.

"What the hell do you think this is, DiNozzo, a day care?" The Director bellowed, stuffing the toothpick back between his lips, "I don't know which of your unfortunate one night stands is semi-responsible for this mess, and I don't know which of my actions gave you the impression that I would stand for the consequences of your indiscretions invading this office, but this is extremely unprofessional, and I expect to see the situation resolved by the time I return from my conversation with SecNav." Vance turned on his heel, striding into MTAC without a backward glance, despite the chaos that ensued in the bullpen behind him.

"Mess? Consequence? SITUATION!" Tony hissed, his eyes glittering for an entirely different reason than originally observed by his coworkers. "Just who does he think he is?" Tony sat down near violently, checking himself at the last minute so as not to jostle the toddler still encased in his arms. His efforts proved useless, however, as the child was awakened by the commotion and proceeded to make its discomfort known.

The babe raised his head, crying out his fear and displeasure at the tone and delivery of both Vance's and Tony's statements. Gibbs smirked, striding to his desk and sitting down, reaching to boot up his computer. "Out of the mouths of babes," he commented, eyes twinkling with sardonic humor.

Tony shot him a quick glare before looking down, adjusting the child so that he was sitting across his lap, his side tucked firmly into Tony's, green eyes facing the Ziva's confused expression. As he reached for the sippy–cup and child's ibuprofen Gibbs had placed on his desk, he consoled the child. "It's okay, Ry. We're right here. Come on baby, shhhh." Tony expertly opened the child-proof ibuprofen bottle with one hand, measuring out the right amount with barely a glance, concentrating on murmuring to the obviously feverish child currently grasping his shirt tightly in both hands. "Here baby, I know it tastes bad. Just one sip baby. Come on, for Daddy? Please Ryan, it'll make everything better. Come on baby. No, you can have juice after you take the medicine. Come on Ry, for me?" Tony's attempts to cox the toddler into taking the grape flavored medicine proved fruitless as Ryan continued to twist his head from side to side, digging his face into his Daddy's shoulder and sobbing whenever Tony tried to subdue his now flailing arms.

"Since when do you have a child?" Junior Agent Timothy McGee finally mustered up the comprehension necessary to ask the question everyone had been wondering since Todd Myers, the security officer manning the gated lobby entrance of the building, had phoned Cynthia, the Director's secretary and NCIS's biggest gossip.

Tony shot him a brief look. "Since he was born," he answered slowly, as if speaking to a slow child.

Probationary Agent Ziva David frowned at his sarcasm, glancing at Gibbs. "So… why have we not heard of him before? And what about all the parties?"

McGee spoke at the same time, addressing Gibbs. "Boss, you knew? I mean, of course you knew, you know everything. I didn't mean to make you sound stupid or un-informed. I mean, why… how… when did you know?" By the end of his question, McGee was stuttering and blushing furiously, unable to meet Gibbs's eyes.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at McGee, turning toward Tony who was looking at him hopelessly, still fighting with the babe in his arms. "Michael Ryan DiNozzo, drop the attitude right now!" Gibbs's voice, the voice dubbed 'the listen-to-me-now-or-the-stirring-straw-in-my-coffee-will-end-up-in-places-you-don't-want-to-know-about voice' by Forensic Specialist Abigail Scuito, rang across the bullpen, silencing everyone, even the child. Gibbs focused his intense gaze at the toddler, "Take the medicine Michael."

The child stared defiantly at Gibbs for a moment, pressing his lips firmly together to prevent Tony from pouring the medicine in his mouth. After almost a minute had passed a small sigh passed through the child's mouth, and he accepted the medicine, making grabbing motions toward the sippy-cup, immediately drinking from it when Tony gave it to him.

"Brat." Tony muttered affectionately, smoothing the unruly, sweat-soaked blonde curls and kissing the child's forehead. Tony turned his head toward Ziva as Gibbs ordered all the bystanders to get back to work, an order which no one, despite how curious they were, defied. Before he could address her questions, however, a squeal rang out in the bullpen. Abigail Scuito had arrived.

"Awww, he's so cute! What's his name? How old is he? Anthony DiNozzo, why didn't you tell me about him! You don't trust me? I thought I was your friend! How could you not tell me! Can I hold him?" Abby bounced on her heels, punching Tony in the arm several times, struggling to both glare at Tony and smile at the child… Michael was winning.

Michael shrank away from her grabbing hands and let out a very distressed noise. "No! Daddy, no!" He threw himself back into his Daddy, trying to escape Abby. When all else failed, he screamed at the top of his lungs, "Papa!" The sob stopped Abby short, and elicited raised eyebrows from both Ziva and McGee.

"He calls you Daddy and Papa?" Abby asked, trying to cover up her blunder by withdrawing her hands in favor of twisting one of her many rings.

"No." Gibbs firm voice drew everyone's attention from the child momentarily. He strode forward, grasping Michael under his arms and lifting him to rest against his chest, head tucked safely against Gibbs's shoulder. "Shhhh Ryan, I'm here."

"Papa…" The feverish boy sobbed, burying his face in Gibbs's neck and wrapping one arm tightly around it, his other hand clutching at the fabric covering Gibbs's shoulder.

"Shhhh baby, I know. Papa's got you." Gibbs bounced the child gently with one arm, reaching his other out to grasp the sippy-cup that had fallen in Michael's attempt to escape Abby as Tony handed it to him. "They're all yours Tony." Gibbs maintained a straight emotionless face, though his eyes glittered with smugness, ignoring the flabbergasted expressions on his coworkers' faces, returning to his chair with Michael.

Tony flashed a smile at his back, quickly holding up a hand to stop any further comments. "I'll answer all your questions, just sit tight. Ziva, you haven't heard of him before because I… _We_, wanted to keep him separate from our work. This is a dangerous job, and we make enemies every day. I'd rather not give them more ammunition. Against any of us. Whatever I have to do to keep him out of the crosshairs, whether it be making up elaborate cover stories or withholding secrets from my friends," he met Abby's eyes, "I'll do it."

Ziva smiled slightly, and nodded, satisfied with his answers for now. McGee and Abby, however seemed less than happy, although McGee seemed to be more confused than genuinely upset. Tony set about straightening his clothing, before ducking his head to rummage through the bag at his feet. "To answer your question McGee, Gib-" His disembodied voice floated up from behind his desk, only to be interrupted by the ringing of the phone on Gibbs's desk.

Gibbs quickly reached out to silence it, bracing it between his ear and shoulder, rubbing Michael's cheek gently with the back of his fingers to calm the snuffling noises emitting from around the sippy-cup. "Gibbs." His expression remained blank, although Michael shifted slightly as he felt a muscle in his Papa's cheek tense as Gibbs gritted his teeth. Gibbs refrained from growling as he snapped his phone closed. "Dead Marine. Grab your gear. DiNozzo, you're with me." He stood up swiftly, somehow managing not to jostle Michael in the process.

He tossed the keys to McGee, stifled a laugh at Ziva's horrified expression, and covered Abby's mouth as she went to speak. "When this case is over, I expect everyone at my place. Until then," he smirked, "McGee! You drive."

The team grabbed their packs, snapping guns, badges, and knives into place as they fell in behind him (Ziva trying to convince McGee to give her the keys), leaving Abby to pout and huff in the bullpen before stomping down to autopsy.

As she disappeared down the stairs, the elevator door dinged and Tony came running out of the barely open doors, nearly skidding around the corner before scrambling desperately to reach Gibbs's coffee. When his hand made contact he hissed out a triumphant "Yes!" and straightened, clearing his throat and walking quickly to the elevator, trying to maintain as much dignity as possible. His poker face died an abrupt death, however, when Michael giggled at the head slap his Daddy received and the subsequent sputters emitted from his mouth as Gibbs smugly took the coffee from Tony's surprised grasp.

.◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦.

* * *

"I expected you here twenty minutes ago, Jethro." Ducky did not look up from where he was securing the body, listening to the sound of Ziva and McGee good-naturedly arguing as they set out to secure and tag the scene.

Gibbs grunted. "You got time of death, Duck?"

Ducky was cut off by the sound of a child's laugh and the squeal that followed. "Nonno Donny!" Ducky looked up in surprise before moving away from the body and removing his gloves.

"Mr. Palmer, I trust you can handle it from here." He turned and crouched, holding his arms wide. "Nipote Michael, il mio bambino caro! How's the fever? All better I hope?" Michael crashed into his chest, nearly knocking him over. "Well, at least we know why Jethro was late, don't we?"

Michael nodded emphatically, face twisted in a mask of concentration. "Take… Tank… Tank… Thhhhhh-anK oo, Nonno." Ducky smiled, wiping off the small amount of spit that had landed on him during Michael's fight against the alphabet. Michael leaned against his chest and sucked on his sippy-cup, content to let Ducky support his weight and coddle his 'grandson.'

Tony walked up, struggling with the camera cord. "Grazie per la medicina, Ducky."

"He told you where he got it?" Ducky looked over Michael's head surprised.

Tony chuckled, but before he could answer, Gibbs spoke up from behind them both. "No Duck, he recognized the sippy-cup as the one he forgot at your place last weekend." He gently gave Tony a shove, pointing toward the previous location of the body. "Shoot, DiNozzo." As DiNozzo walked away with a muttered "Spoilsport," Gibbs knelt next to Ducky and Michael, reaching out to pet Michael's hair while handing Ducky the bottle of children's ibuprofen. "Can you watch him for us, Ducky? We'll pick him up when we're done here."

Ducky stood, holding Michael's free hand. "Of course Jethro!" Ducky looked insulted that Gibbs had even had to ask, "I'll take good care of him, won't I Michael?"

"Thanks Duck." Gibbs knelt next to Michael, cupping the back of his head with one hand, "You behave for Nonno Donny, alright buddy?" He kissed Michael's forehead, accepting the hug from the slightly less feverish, less grumpy little boy.

"Luwv oo Papa." Michael planted a large, wet kiss on Gibbs's cheek then turned, grabbed Ducky's hand and ran toward the van, where Mr. Palmer, known to Michael as "Unca Jimmy," was waiting to sweep him up.

"I love you too Ry." Gibbs said softly, remaining on the ground for a moment, his eyes following Michael, before he climbed to his feet with a nearly inaudible sigh, turning to survey the crime scene.

.◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦.

* * *

Tony stood, stretching as his computer shut down. After a satisfying series of cracks up his spine, he let his arms drop to his sides, tiredly sighing.

"Alright people, we're done here. My place, forty five minutes. Run home, shower, repack your overnight bags, food'll be waiting. Go." Gibbs slipped his coat on as McGee and Ziva rushed out of the bullpen, one hand wearily rubbing over his eyes. "C'mon Tony, let's get you home." He smiled slightly as Tony mumbled an affirmative, leaning toward Gibbs, eyes drooping. "C'mon, wake up." When Tony merely blinked sluggishly, Gibbs reached out a hand and slapped the back of his head. "DiNozzo!"

Tony snapped upright, eyes open wide. "Boss!"

Gibbs monotoned, "Home, Tony."

Tony stifled a yawn, nodding rapidly and gathering his stuff.

"Michael's with Duck. We're going to stop and get pizza on the way."

"'Kay. Sausage, extra cheese?" Tony shuffled into the elevator after Gibbs, resting his head casually on Gibbs's shoulder. With no one remaining in the building, he had absolutely no motivation to maintain a professional distance.

Gibbs, unbeknownst to Tony, smiled gently, "No. Anchovies and pickled artichoke hearts." His smile shifted into a rare grin when Tony gagged and dry heaved a little at the idea. "Of course Tone. Take a nap in the car."

"'Kay." Tony didn't even bother to stifle the next yawn, smacking his lips afterwards and burrowing his face into Gibbs's shoulder. As soon as he was buckled into the car, he was asleep, snoring quietly as Gibbs drove at a _slightly_ more sedate pace.

Thirty minutes later found Tony being gently awakened and sent to take a shower and put on sweats. While he was in the shower, Gibbs set the table for six and then pushed all the furniture in the living room up against the walls, being careful not to cut off access to the tree sitting in the far corner of the room. He removed a large pile of spare blankets, pillows, and his and Tony's sleeping bags from the closet in the hall, laying them on the floor next to the couch. He had just finished when the front door opened and the six expected individuals arrived.

"Papa!" Michael kicked off his shoes and flung himself at Gibbs, his flushed and tearstained face the picture of misery. "Huwts…" He whimpered pathetically, sniffling into Gibbs neck as Gibbs lifted him into a secure hold.

Before Gibbs could say anything, Tony swept down the stairs and grabbed the distraught child, disappearing into the kitchen. "Well," he looked slightly put out, "food's in the kitchen. Eat first, talk later." The group turned as a whole, disappearing after Tony, the sound of cans being cracked open and pizza boxes being passed soon filling the house. Gibbs turned to the only remaining member of the group; Dr. Donald Mallard. "Well, Duck? How's he doing?"

Ducky smiled at Gibbs's gruff manner of demonstrating concern. "My dear Jethro, Michael is doing just fine. His fever spiked briefly a short while ago, but it's going back down now. I suspect it will be broken by tomorrow morning. Until then, the ibuprofen will keep it from rising too high."

They both turned toward the kitchen, standing in the doorway to observe the chaos ensuing. Both of them smiled affectionately as Jimmy Palmer smacked playfully at Michael's hands. Michael succeeded in stealing the sausage from Jimmy's slice of pizza, retreating to peak around his Daddy's arms from his safe position in Tony's lap, all the while giggling in a subdued manner at Jimmy's mock angry expression.

"Gosh Tony, teach that kid some manners!" Jimmy growled good-naturedly.

"Can't help it if the kid's got good taste," Tony retorted, smugly taking a bite of his own slice, one arm tucked firmly around Michael's waist, holding him in place. Gibbs glanced over toward the sink, seeing the freshly used medicine measuring cup, and relaxed enough to lean on the door jamb.

Though there was tension between the people sitting at his table, the banter flowed freely. After everyone had eaten, the dishes had been done, and everyone was settled in the living room, Gibbs demanded everyone's attention. "There're two bathrooms, one across the hall right there, and one up the stairs and to your right. Everyone go get changed. We'll talk in the morning. Pillows, blankets, and sleeping bags are by the couch. Ducky, you know where the guest room is." With those final words he took the sleeping Michael from the drowsing Tony's arms, carrying the former and leading the latter up the stairs, making it clear that he wouldn't be coming back down before everyone had gotten a full night's sleep.

The group was far too tired to be put out, and settled down to sleep in the twinkling lights coming from the tree in the corner of the room, a gentle reminder of the time of year.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mmmmm…." The warmth moved away, staving off the orgasm that threatened to overtake him and causing him to keen in loss, whimpering when it didn't reappear right away.

"Shhhh…" the baritone voice made his profusely leaking cock twitch. The deep voice chuckled and the warm, calloused hand returned, surrounding him.

"Please… Jethro…" The rest of the sentence was cut off by a satisfied moan as Jethro sank into his body, burying his length in him until his balls rested firmly against his ass. Slowly, steadily, Jethro pulled out until the head caught gently on the ring of muscle clinging as tightly to his length as the owner was to his left hand. He focused his eyes on their intertwined fingers as he pushed back in, setting a slow, deep rhythm. The body beneath him sighed, breath catching every time he made contact with his prostate. He looked down meeting the heavy-lidded green eyes looking at him so trustingly, pausing in his pace momentarily to lean down and kiss the lax mouth.

As he straightened, resuming his slow thrusting, Tony squeezed his hand, reaching up with his right hand to tug on the ring hanging from the chain around Jethro's neck, feeling Jethro's balls draw up from their position against his ass. "Jethro…" the breathless sigh was accompanied by an arching of his back, pushing his chest up toward Jethro as he came, white streaks of cum painting his chest and stomach. Tony was lowered slowly to the bed, as Jethro thrust one last time, holding him close as he came.

Jethro laid on Tony for a moment before gently untangling Tony's right hand from the chain around his neck and rolling to the edge of the bed. He released his grip on Tony's left hand, stood up slowly and ambled to the bathroom. He cleaned himself and returned to the bed to clean Tony.

Tony looked up at him sluggishly, left hand still above his head where Jethro had pinned it earlier, and right hand hanging limply off the side of the bed as if he had reached for Jethro as he had left. He offered neither protest nor aid when Jethro cleaned his chest, only shivering slightly as Jethro straightened the dogtags around his neck, revealing the ring held on the chain with them. When Jethro gently lifted his leg to clean him Tony mumbled, but offered no real resistance until Jethro had finished cleaning his thighs and reached to clean out his used hole.

"Jet… Come back to bed." Tony sleepily grabbed Jethro's waist, hauling him into bed.

Jethro chuckled, Tony's attempt to keep Jethro both next to and inside of him not escaping his notice, and tossed the rag into the hamper before settling next to Tony, who snuggled into his side and promptly began snoring. "I love you to, Tone." He whispered, closing his eyes to sleep.

.◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦.

* * *

Tony awoke to the sound of a child's laughter just moments before a small body landed on his chest, knocking the wind out of him. The giggling continued, joined by a much deeper, more gravely chuckle. Tony cracked an eyelid open to be greeted by the smiling faces of his son and boss. "Hi bud. Thanks Jet." He threw a faux-angry glare at Gibbs which melted as he bent down and kissed Tony.

"Good morning Tone. Might want to shower. They'll be up in about ten minutes." Gibbs smiled fondly as Tony jumped up, dumping the still giggling Michael on the bed and scrambling into the joined bathroom and closed the door, not bothering to cover himself. "Your Daddy's silly." Gibbs nodded seriously at Michael, picking up the boy. "Whaddaya say we go make breakfast for the zombies?" Gibbs asked, walking out of the bedroom with Michael on his hip.

Behind the closed door, Tony smiled giddily, leaning against the door with his eyes closed for a moment before jumping into the shower.

.◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦.

* * *

The smell of sizzling bacon drifted through the house, beckoning its inhabitants to the kitchen. Ducky was the first to arrive, appearing just as the cup of tea Tony set at the far end of the table for him met the solid wood. "Aaaaah. Good morning. Thank you Anthony." Ducky murmured, patting Tony's shoulder on his way to situation himself in his favorite chair. From here he could watch not only the proceedings in the kitchen, as the family of three went about preparing a large breakfast (well, two preparing, one watching quietly from the counter, holding a sippy-cup loosely in one hand and his Papa's right ring and pinky fingers in the other, rather complicating the process), but also the living room where Michael usually would be playing with his toys, but was now occupied by four adults, sprawled across the floor, couch, and chair.

He hid his amused smile behind his cuppa as Ziva stirred from her position on the couch, rolling off and landing on McGee without a sound. Her ninja approach to waking up was ruined however, by the grunt _he_ emitted as her elbow made solid contact with his solar plexus. Both of them shot upright, and proceeded to scramble to their feet, McGee struggling out of the sleeping back he was tangled in, and began to pick up the blankets and pillows strewn around them.

McGee nudged Palmer in the side with his sock covered toes until the man rolled over and woke up with a snorted, "Whaaa?" Ziva wrinkled her nose at them both, and continued to fold the blankets she had used. Palmer blinked owlishly at her, sluggishly working his way out of his sleeping back as McGee gently woke Abby from her curled up position on the chair. The four had the room to rights again in a mere few moments, the blankets and pillows each had used stacked neatly in four separate piles, before they collectively descended on the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to observe the scene playing out in front of them.

Tony had just finished pulling the juice and milk out of the fridge, placing it near the middle of the table set for six, one the seats having the supplies for two stacked in front of it. He did not acknowledge the four, instead neatly swiveling to grab the plate of bacon Jethro had just extended behind his back without sparing Tony a glance. Tony's fingers lingered on Jethro's for a moment before once again returning to the table and placing the plate on the end nearest Ducky, grabbing a piece and biting off all but half an inch of it, which he smoothly turned and placed in Michael's mouth just as it opened before leaning over to kiss Jethro, sharing the flavor of bacon with him. Michael closed his mouth, chewing his bacon in silence, contentedly watched his Daddy and Papa.

Jethro hummed, pulling back and licking his lips, his eyes unreadable as he met his team's emotionally varied gazes. He turned back to the stove, removing the frying pan from the hot burner and placing it on an unused one at the back of the stove before expertly moving the scrambled eggs around with a spatula grasped firmly in his left hand. He moved his lower body out of the way as Tony bend down, opening the oven and extracting the two trays of biscuits, placing them on the counter next to the stove, on the opposite side as Michael. He closed the oven door with one hand and turned off the burner that the bacon had been on with the other before moving to the left to begin arranging the biscuits on a platter. Jethro smoothly returned to his place in front of the stove, laying his spatula down in favor of turning off the heat under the pot of gravy boiling on the back burner.

The team marveled at how well they worked together, the ease with which they both went about their respective tasks and the lack of verbal communication between the three. Ducky let out a low chuckle at the looks on their faces, prompting Tony to raise his head. "Morning guys. Breakfast will be ready shortly, grab a seat. Coffee's by the fridge." Jimmy sat down to Ducky's right, putting several pieces of bacon on his plate and pouring some juice into his glass. Tony tried to stuff down the nerves arising in the face of the upcoming conversation, returning to the biscuits. Jethro turned off the burner under the eggs, gently bumping Tony with his shoulder. A brief flash of gratitude filled Tony's eyes before he turned to the table, placing the biscuits on the end of the table opposite Ducky, dropping a couple on Ducky's and Jimmy's plates in the process, before returning to the stove to grab the pot of gravy, putting it on an oven mitt next to the biscuits. He picked up Michael, who transferred his grasp from his Papa's hand to his Daddy's shirt, still unsure of the new people in his home and sensing Tony's unease, and walked to stand behind the chair on the opposite end of the table as Ducky's, his back to the team. Jethro swiftly dumped the eggs from the pan into a serving bowl, placing it next to the bacon on the table, before taking a seat in the chair Tony was standing behind. "Well, what are ya waiting for, an engraved invitation?" Jethro spoke to McGee, Ziva, and Abby, already splitting the stack of plates in front of him, placing two biscuits on each, splitting them and covering them in gravy.

As he reached for the eggs, the three scrambled to take the remaining seats at the table, Ziva taking the seat to Jethro's left, McGee taking the seat across from her, and Abby across from Palmer. After a moment's hesitation they began to serve themselves, passing plates and cups until everyone was satisfied. Jethro calmly observed the chaos, taking a large pile of bacon when the plate was passed his way, splitting it between the two plates in front of him. He filled the one cup in front of him with milk, glancing up at Tony and winking when he placed Jethro's mug of _black_ coffee in front of him. Tony shook his head slightly, depositing Michael in Jethro's lap, taking his plate and cup of milk from the table and retreating to lean on the counter next to the stove. Jethro watched him for a moment, then adjusted Michael in his lap and began to eat, feeding Michael small bites of everything until Michael squirmed to be put down.

Jethro released the boy, watching him carefully as he toddled to lean against his Daddy's legs, patting a beat on his sippy-cup with one hand and peaking at the three adults watching him curiously. Jethro ate the last bite on his plate, downed the last of his coffee, and pushed his chair back to get up and put his dishes in the sink. After leaving his dishes next to the double sided sink and pulling the strainer out of the cabinet above it, placing it on the other side of the sink, he poured the cooling bacon grease into a jar, turning off the oven and transferring the dirty pots and pans to the counter next to the sink. Noting that everyone had finished eating he turned to Ducky, "You mind watching Ryan for a while, Duck?"

Ducky looked up at him like he suspected Jethro had lost his marbles before standing up and extending a hand to Michael. "Let's go see that race track you were telling me about, Nipote." Michael excitedly grabbed his Nonno Ducky's hand, toddling out of the kitchen and through the living room and down the hall to the playroom, dragging an unresisting Ducky with him, babbling at him, alternating between English, Italian and baby-speak in his excitement. Silence reigned for a few minutes following their departure.

Jimmy stood, shooting meaningful looks at both Tony and Jethro. "I got the dishes." Jethro nodded his thanks and Jimmy began clearing the table, putting away leftovers and placing dishes next to the sink. Jethro took the seat Ducky had deserted, gesturing for Tony to join them. Tony took a deep breath and made his way over, adding his own dirty dishes to the growing stacks before taking Jimmy's seat, heart pounding in his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony's knee bounced nervously, his fingers gripping them harshly. Jethro's face was as unruffled as always, piercing blue eyes unreadable. Under the table, his hand sat on top of Tony's, thumb stroking his knuckles reassuringly. Tony exhaled softly, inhaling through his nose.

"Well? Tell us!" Abby, ever impatient, couldn't hold it in anymore, nearly bouncing in her seat. "Tell us! Tell us! Who's his mother? Where is she? How old is he? How long have you had him? How long have you two been together? Do you live here Tony? How long have you lived here? Why didn't you tell me Bossman? Are y-" She was cut off by Gibbs hand covering her mouth.

"Abs." He stared at her until he felt her mouth click closed behind his hand. He lowered his hand, resting it on the table for a moment, his other hand maintaining its motion on Tony's. "Palmer... Coffee." Jimmy chuckled from the sink area, and a mug of bitter nectar appeared in front of him. He sipped it once then took a large mouthful, setting the mug down. It was quickly snatched by Tony, who took a rather large gulp, as if downing a shot.

With the taste of Gibbs brew reminding him that he was here, Tony looked up at Abby. "A little over three years ago, when Gibbs left for Mexico, I began seeing someone. She was exactly what I needed at the time; no strings, judgments or expectations, no comparisons or standards I couldn't live up to. I began to rely on her to help keep myself from going under-"

"Going under what?" Ziva interrupted, looking confused. She sensed that Tony was glossing over something, and was unwilling to let it be forgotten or buried in the conversation.

A brief flash of… _something_ lit Tony's eyes before disappearing behind his well-used and perfected mask. "It's an expression Ziva. I wasn't dealing with things very well."

"What things?" Again, Ziva pressed, knowing there was more to this than Tony was letting on.

"Things, Ziva. Life. Work… _Things_." "What things specifically, Tony?" She refused to let it drop; it was painfully obvious to her that he did not want to discuss what these things were, but she wasn't about to let him continue to hide anymore of his life from her or the team.

"Jesus Ziva! You're like a fucking dog with a bone!" Jethro tapped his index finger against Tony's thumb harshly, drawing him back from the edge. He focused on the steady beat of Jethro's finger, closing his eyes and inhaling air sharply through his nose and letting it out in a giant sigh a few seconds later. Squashing down his anger, he opened his eyes and faced the team.

"When Jethro left, you all missed him, I get it. I missed him to! But you guys just couldn't accept me… I tried to run the team like _I _wanted to, and nobody listened. Everyone just looked at me like '_You're not Gibbs'_. I tried to run the team like Gibbs, and still nobody was happy. Abby had a fucking shrine, and told me I had to get him back, completely disregarding the fact that I deserved the promotion, that Gibbs said _I'd do! _McGee acted like I had no more authority than I had as a Senior Field Agent, and completely disregarded my orders more than once. And fuck you, McGee, 'cause you didn't even do half your job!"

He stopped to inhale a breath and McGee quietly, stunned, asked, "What do you mean?" Tony choked on a hysterical laugh, his face twisted in pain, anger, and derision.

"What do I mean! I mean that I stayed up until fucking three in the morning every fucking night to do paperwork so that you wouldn't have to! Haven't you ever noticed that, as Senior Field Agent, I always have fucking paperwork up to my ears? You never had to do a lick more than you did as Junior Field Agent! And yet, to you I was still some little kid in an undeserving position of authority, who didn't merit any respect! And Ziva! I am your superior! I know that I act like a kid... a lot, but that's because we don't laugh nearly enough and our job is slowly robbing us of our humanity! There's no excuse for disobeying your superior fucking more than you obey him, and nearly getting him killed with your misjudgments! Your pride is endless, and I'm tired of being the peg that gets knocked down a few holes so that you can feel better about yourself!" Another deep breath, the team was staring at him now in shock. Jethro looked at him, face unreadable to most, eyes simmering with a sympathetic pain for Tony and anger toward the team. He had known it had been rough, but Tony hadn't told him much about their actions and how they had affected him.

Tony took another moment, closing his eyes wearily, "I used to go and get you lunch on the busy days, even Abby. And the only ones who said thank you were Jimmy and Ducky. I was on medication because the stress my body was under; too little food, not enough sleep, emotional stress, and yet none of you noticed or stepped up to take a little of the load. I collapsed in Autopsy one day and Jimmy took me home while Ducky told you all that I had to take the rest of the day off for personal reasons. Instead of wondering why the Medical Examiner, my personal doctor, was telling you this, instead of asking if I was okay, you just assumed I had gone home to meet up with some girl, and you filed a formal complaint!" Another deep breath, this one being let out in a sigh, his tone defeated, "And just when I thought I couldn't take any more, she was gone. She left without any forewarning, and I didn't have the energy or desire to find her and fight for her. I didn't love her, she was just a crutch. Granted, it was difficult to get on without her, but I managed until Gibbs got back. And then I just snapped." He stopped talking entirely, his hand trembling under Gibbs's.

Jethro looked at him searchingly for a moment then looked at the team, "He showed up in my basement one Saturday morning, a couple weeks after I got the team back, and broke. Wouldn't tell me why, and when I asked how to fix it he kissed me. Things happened, we talked, and come Monday morning, we were in a tentative relationship."

"What about rule twelve, Boss?" McGee was frowning; looking like his confused displeasure was leaning rapidly toward full-blown anger. Gibbs knew he was avoiding thinking about what Tony had said, just like the other two were, and he knew that they wouldn't succeed for long. He would address the issue, but not now; not in front of Tony. For now, he would indulge them.

He focused on Tony's downcast eyes, turning his hand over and interlocking their fingers, pulling them over to his own knee. When Tony tightened his grip, hanging onto his hand desperately, he smiled a little, a rare occurrence in McGee's life, and squeezed Tony's hand as he leaned forward a little, reaching for his mug. "Some rules, McGee, are just made to be broken."

He held in laughter, taking in the team's response with delight. Ziva's eyes doubled in size and her jaw dropped, as did McGee's. Whether it was because of the smile or his veiled permission for the team to overlook rule twelve, he didn't know, but nonetheless, they both looked like fish, and he couldn't help but picture then with fins, a small scaled body, and a tail, trying to arrest a shark for murder… He really needed to stop watching movies with Michael and Tony.

Abby, having just opened her mouth to ask a question, snapped it closed with an audible click. Tony blinked at him, his humor once again stepping in to cover his discomfort. "Smooth Jet. I think you broke them." His attempts to improve a situation through humor never ceased, and Jethro loved him all the more for it. For several moments, the only sounds in the room where those Jimmy produced while washing the dishes. Finally, Ziva spoke up.

"How did you end up with… Michael?"

Tony smiled slightly, trying to relax when the team seemed to accept Jethro's answer without pushing any further. "She showed up on my doorstep one day, halfway through our week off. I was picking up some clean clothes, getting ready to head over to Jet…" He took a second to think about that one, then finally decided that he wouldn't hide in his own home and continued on as if he hadn't just called the terrifying Agent Gibbs by a pet name. "… to Jet's house. She had Ryan with her, and all the paper's giving me full custodial rights. She said she didn't have the heart to take his life, but she couldn't bring herself to keep him either. She apologized, and left me with a sleeping baby and an envelope of papers. Haven't seen her since. I didn't know what else to do, so I went to Jethro's house anyway, taking Ryan with me. He was only a few weeks old; I had no idea how to handle a baby. Jethro spent the rest of the week helping me adjust; moving me in, buying baby clothes, bottles, diapers, a crib, and everything else a baby needs. Not that the crib was necessary at the time: Ryan refused to sleep unless he was in bed with both Jethro and I for the first few weeks."

He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling at Gibbs, "As they say, the rest is history." Gibbs scraped his nails against Tony's palm lightly, seemingly oblivious to the twitching the action induced.

Abby frowned at Jimmy for the fact that he was puttering around the kitchen as if he owned it. "What about Jimmy and Ducky, Gibbs? How long have they known?" Her tone indicated that she was upset by the fact that they knew and she didn't, and the obvious level of familiarity that they both had with the house and Michael.

He shot her an indecipherable look, "Since Tony showed up with Ryan. I called Ducky to check him out. Turns out he stayed home with his Mother that day. Jimmy was the only one in autopsy." She just looked at him blankly, as if not seeing the connection.

Tony chuckled, "Jethro did his usual 'I'm-Gibbs-and-I-don't-need-to-say-hi-or-ask-who-I'm-talking-to-before-I-demand-your-unwavering-loyalty-and-your-arm-and-leg' act before Jimmy could tell him that he was, in fact, not Ducky. Then, out of curiosity, he rode along with Ducky. Been hanging his ugly butt around ever since."

"Hey!" Jimmy threw a handful of suds at Tony's head, prompting laughter from everyone present, with the exception of a disgruntled Tony.

"I still don't understand why you couldn't tell us. We can keep a secret!" Abby refused to let the issue drop, seemingly forgetting Tony's previous comments on the matter.

"No, Abby, you can't. I know you mean well, and you would never intentionally hurt one of us, but you trust people far too easily. When everything's right in your world, everyone has to know it. And I'm sorry, but Ryan is too precious to be put in that kind of danger." He raised his free hand, cutting her off when she opened her mouth to protest, "Don't get me wrong Abby, I love you. And I do trust you… with everything else. But Ryan is far too important."

Ziva looked mollified, and Tim more-so, to the point of calculating. Gibbs watched him carefully, catching the brief glance he shot at Abby and cataloguing it for later use. McGee looked over at him, catching Gibbs staring at him, and blushed, lowering his gaze. Oh yes, definitely going to have to talk to McGee later. No one hurts his girl, and McGee would damned well understand that… later. He had more important things to deal with right now.

He finished off his coffee with a large gulp, standing to place his mug in the sink, never letting go of Tony's hand. "We good?" The team nodded, focused on the joined hands, a silent but strong statement on Gibbs's part that screamed 'I will not be anything but proud of this man.'

"Ah, one more question Tony?" Tony shot McGee an amused look, "Shoot McGee." "Why do you guys call him both Michael and Ryan? And why does he call Ducky Nonno Donny? And Ducky calls him Nipote?"

Gibbs looked vaguely amused as he turned to stand behind Tony's chair, leaning down to allow their joined hands to rest on Tony's leg. Tony laughed, shooting the man draped over his shoulders an affectionate look, "That's more than one question McGenius." Gibbs pinched the back of his hand, his other arm looping around Tony's neck in a loose embrace. "Ow. Okay." He subconsciously leaned back a little, laying his head against Gibbs's, where it rested on his shoulder. "I wanted to find Ryan a nickname so that I wouldn't have to call a baby 'Michael,' because it just sounds too… grown up, somehow. But Mike was worse, Mikey sounds like a hormonal teenager with a sappy girlfriend, and Kale is a vegetable… so I decided to call him Ryan. It is his middle name after all. And then it just evolved into the occasional 'Ry.'"

Gibbs interrupted with a not-so-quietly-muttered, "In other words, you're too lazy to say 'Ryan' so you shortened it." Now it was Tony's turn to pinch Gibbs's hand harshly. The sharp, almost inaudible inhalation next to his cheek told him he had succeeded in both surprising Gibbs and causing slight amounts of pain, and he continued on as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"When Ry first started talking, he couldn't say Ducky, and I cracked a joke about Donald Duck and little mallards. He latched onto Donny and we taught him Nonno, 'cause Grandpa was too hard to pronounce. Nonno means Grandfather in Italian, so it seemed fitting. The first time he called Ducky that, Ducky called him Nipote, which is Italian for grandson, and it just stuck. Only Ducky calls Ry by his christian name, just as he calles Abby Abigail, myself Anthony, and McGee Timothy. Unless we're upset with Ry, we don't call him Michael."

McGee nodded, his curiosity satisfied for now. Ziva smirked, her mastery of the Italian language having answered McGee's questions long before Tony had. Abby, on the other hand, obviously still had some questions.

"Does Michael know any Italian? And why does he call Bossman Papa?"

"Because he's my son." Gibbs's blunt reply explained nothing, and Tony rolled his eyes at Abby's still-confused expression.

"And once again, Jethro, your answers give such clarity." He turned to Abby, ignoring the look Gibbs was giving him from the corner of his eye. "Ducky and I have been teaching him Italian. Ducky says that it will be easier for him to learn now than later. And Jet…" He pinched Jethro's hand again, reaching up to simultaneously pinch the one resting on his shoulder for good measure. Once again, Jethro gave him _the look_ from the corner of his eye.

"I've never looked at him as anything other than our child. From the moment I opened the door to see Tony, looking lost as could be, holding a crying Ryan in his arms, I never thought of him as anything less than my son. When I first took him from Tony, and he stopped crying in favor of grabbing my nose, he stole my heart, and he's held it ever since. When I'm with him, I feel the same as I did with… I haven't felt the way I do about him since…" He cleared his throat, taking a moment to catch his breath. "Since Kelly. The adoption hasn't been finalized yet, but that little boy _is_ my son. I witnessed that little boy taking his first steps… to me. His first word was 'Papa,' and he said it because he wanted me to pick him up after he fell while crawling. I may not have contributed to his creation, but no one can say he isn't my son. I would die for that little boy without a second thought, and I would do anything to keep him out of danger. We didn't tell you as much by my own will as by Tony's. Ryan's existence as our son has been a well-kept secret, and will continue to be so." His firm tone and steely gaze brooked no room for argument, and after a moment he left the room to find Ryan, leaving behind a room full of stunned adults and one watery-smiling Tony.

"Well, you all are welcome to stay. We'll be opening presents and feasting this evening. We'd love to have you join us."

Jimmy piped up from the sink, where he was drying and putting away the last of the dishes, "Tony's been trying to figure out how to have a family Christmas for the last three years."

"Thanks Jimmy, my reputation as a badass is totally ruined now." Tony said sarcastically, glowering at him for a brief moment before whipping around to stare at McGee, affronted by his, "You, badass? Were there hallucinogen's in his breakfast Jimmy?"

Before Tony could think of a proper rebuttal, Ziva hugged him reservedly from her seat next to him. "Tony, I love you, and I never meant to hurt or disrespect you. You are a good agent, and I am grateful that it is you who has my back. I am sorry that I did not demonstrate this to you sooner." Tony looked at her in shock, not sure what to say. He had been fighting to come to terms with everyone's opinions of him for so long, and was unprepared to hear that they were not what he thought they had been.

He was prevented from saying anything, however, by Abby's chair scraping across the floor, its legs screeching as if in protest to the roughness with which she stood up, knocking it back to run around the table and engulf Tony (and by extension, Ziva) in an Abby-hug, nearly choking them both with her arms. "Tony-bear! I didn't know! I'm so sorry! You know I love you right? Because I do! I love you a lot! And.. and.. and it's not right for you to think that I don't! And I trust you, and I think you're a fantastic agent and friend, and I'm sorry that I made you think you weren't, or that I didn't think you were! I love you! I'm sorry!" She stopped to take a breath, tears swimming in her eyes, and all three of them were surprised when McGee wrapped his arms around the whole lot of them, saying simply, "Sorry Tony, that I made you feel that way. I love, trust and respect you more than anyone. Forgive me, big bro?"

Tony's breath hitched at the term of endearment, and he shuddered with emotion for a second, "Anytime Fratellino. That goes for everyone. I love you guys too." The group huddled in silence for a moment, before Ziva's voice drifted up from where her head was tucked under Tony's chin, which was buried under Abby's upper body and Tim's arm.

"If you guys do not let me out right now I will go postal." Tony chuckled, "Where'd you learn that Ziva?" "Do not laugh, I know that I said it correctly. Damon taught it to me, and I will do exactly as the euphemism implies if you do not release me. You smell." "I do not! I smell wonderful! I smell of awesomeness!" "Well I cannot breath over the odor you call awesomeness." The group laughed, unraveling themselves and standing, helping Jimmy put the rest of the kitchen to rights again.

As they headed out of the kitchen to locate Gibbs, Ryan, and Ducky, the house phone rang. Tony lunged for it, tripping over McGee's feet. He grabbed Abby's arm, windmilling his other to stay upright. He failed.

As he and Abby fell, Abby's foot caught Jimmy's leg, pulling both him, and Ziva who was in front of him, to the ground with them. McGee stepped on a stray limb and promptly was knocked on his ass as the owner yanked it out from under him. The group groaned, slowly untangling themselves, purposely knocking Tony in the head a few times for good measure. As the groans turned into laughter, the call went to voice mail, and a voice none of them wanted to hear drifted through the room, silencing the group.

"Anthony, it's your father. I'm just calling to… check on you." The insincerity and derision in his voice could be heard by everyone, "How are you? Well, I hope? Have you managed to keep your secret? I must admit, I was surprised when I found out that you had a secret from both me and the people you work with. Tell me, how do you keep it from them? Do you lie to them? Do you tell them you can be trusted, then make up a story so they'll believe you? Do you have a plan so that they will forgive you when it comes out? Meh, it doesn't matter. I am just proud that you have finally put all my lessons in… _people-handling_ to good use. Finally, you are living up to the DiNozzo legacy. You make me proud, to have a son just like his father. Merry-" Whatever else he was going to say was registered mute to the rest of the group as McGee picked up the phone.

* * *

Hey guys and gals,

Before I upload anything else I just wanted to know if there are any more questions you'd like answered? I have several more chapters laid out, and can easily work some dialogue in somewhere that will answer any questions. Just review or pm me, and I'll see what I can do.

Thank you all for the comments, you made me a lot more confident in my writing, and it is very much appreciated. Oh, and before I forget: I don't own anything but my imagination and Michael. Everything else, I am simply borrowing from CBS... or whoever owns NCIS now.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hello Mr. DiNozzo."

"Who is this? You aren't my son. But please, call me Tony."

McGee ignored the invitation, and the panicked look Tony was throwing at him. "Mr. DiNozzo. To what _secret_ are you referring?"

DiNozzo Sr. didn't seem to register the tense tone in McGee's voice, instead responding quickly, seemingly excited to have a chance to out his son. "Are you from my son's team? Ah, you must be, for you to be in his house. Agent McDonald or something. No matter. Have you met my grandson? My son seems to have been hiding him away, but I'm sure he wouldn't hide something like that from his team. After all, it takes a great deal of trust to do what you do, and I imagine he wouldn't want to jeopardize that trust by keeping such a monumental secret." The glee Sr. was taking, while well-hidden, was not lost on McGee.

"McGee."

"Excuse me?"

"It's McGee. My name is McGee. And yes, actually, I have met your grandson. He's a cute child… seems to have no knowledge of his Grandfather. I wonder why that is? Ah, perhaps it was because you disinherited and disowned _Tony_ when he didn't follow in your footsteps as you had hoped. Or, maybe it was because you never contact him unless you need something, or have another conquest of one kind or another to gloat about. Or, perhaps it was because of the Maui incident. No matter. Have _you_ met your grandson?"

"Excuse me? Who do you think you are that you can talk to me like that? You don't know what you're talking about-" The rest of the team only heard indignant squawks, unable to make out the actual words on Sr.'s end. However, McGee definitely was standing his ground. Actually, scratch that, he was taking ground… and doing it with a gleeful manipulation born of righteous indignation for the pain a very close friend and brother had undergone.

"I'm sorry Mr. DiNozzo, but I _don't_ see how that has any bearing on the subject at hand." Hell, he'd even adopted an entirely new manner of speaking! "What I _do_ see is a pathetic old man who takes advantage of the one person he knows can never truly be free of him. What I _do_ see is a man who makes his way through life by wheedling and manipulating anyone he can get his hands on, who lives for the thrill of knowing he made himself larger in someone else's eyes by making them smaller. What I _do_ see is a man desperate to have a part in his son's life after he threw away that right, and determined to have that part in whatever way he can, and is unwilling to look past what he thinks is the easiest way. What I _do_ see-" McGee's face looked both amused and disgusted at whatever Sr. had said. "No, you aren't. You're a manipulative, desperate little man, but I don't think you're self-destructive. And trust me, if you do so you _will_ be setting up your own destruction. You have no hold here, and until you are invited to do so, you will not attempt to get one. Now, when you've gotten your head out of your ass and want to apologize, _sincerely_, you can call this number again. Otherwise I really don't want to find out that you have… Your money is tied up in stocks and bonds is it not? What a pity it would be if they were to suddenly get lost…" With those final words, he slammed the phone back into its base, fuming. "The nerve…" He muttered angrily to himself, turning to look at the room full of shocked coworkers. His boss and medical examiner stood in the doorway that led down the hall to the playroom, abandoned by all occupants in favor of checking on the commotion.

"Aaaah…" Before he could say anything, Michael squeezed between Gibbs's and Ducky's legs, running to Tony, who was still sitting on the floor. Michael threw himself at Tony, who caught him, his eyes watery, and buried his face in his hair.

"Daddy! Oo 'kay? Daddy?" The little boy's tentative questions, completed by the patting hand on his Daddy's neck, drew everyone's eyes to Tony. His shoulders shook, and his hands clutched sporadically at Michael's shirt, but he made no noise. Jethro crossed the room in three strides, sinking gracefully to his knees next to Tony and Michael, pulling them to his chest. He rested his chin on Tony's head, one hand stroking his hair, the other rubbing a thumb over Michael's shoulder.

Abby, who was standing closest, could have sworn she heard Gibbs say, "My boys… I love you." But no one else could later corroborate her story… or, in Tony's case, refused to with a damned secretive and smug smile on his face.

"Timothy," Ducky spoke up, moving into the room to take a seat, "What happened?"

McGee's face clouded, and his eyes seemed to take on a far-away look, "Anthony DiNozzo Sr., aka "The Real Tony DiNozzo," decided that today would be the perfect day to unload a little of his endless torrent of sh-… stuff on his not-his-son son. He apparently has had a steady stream of information on Tony since he disinherited him, going so far as to hire a private investigator in times of great financial standing. He wanted to rub his new knowledge of Ryan in Tony's face, and had no problem pulling out all the stops to make Tony feel guilty about not telling him. He was going to try to wheedle out some money, threatening to expose Tony to the team, but I shut him down. The little…" McGee growled angrily, his face the picture of righteous anger. "He tried to tell me that I didn't really know Tony, and that he couldn't be trusted. Hell, he even had the audacity to try to push Maui off as Tony's fault, after of course stating that nothing happened so why should it matter if Tony was on his own for a short while? It built character! After everything that man has put him through, after everything we've learned about that evil man and what he's done to Tony, after Tony's lost his innocence in every possible way so that that… _Man_ can live well above his means and carry on without acknowledging his responsibilities, after everything we've done to repair Tony's self-esteem, after we've finally gotten Tony to see that we appreciate him, he had the audacity to try to destroy him! To consign him to a fate riddled with blackmail, mistrust, and hurt! That… ASSHOLE!"

The word burst from McGee who promptly, drained, sank into a chair next to Ducky, putting his head in his hands. Abby hurried over to him, wrapping him in a hug and declaring, "Well, I'm proud of you. You definitely gave that man what he deserved. I'd like to-" Ducky reached over, placing a hand over hers where it rested on McGee's shoulder. "Abigail, dear, we would all like to disembowel the man, not only for his audacity and neglect, but also for Maui and the trauma that Anthony received while he was there. But Timothy has given him some thoughts to mull over for the time being, and I think we need to focus on the positives. Tomorrow is Christmas, after all. And I think that we shouldn't let Mr. DiNozzo ruin our holidays. We had tradition to uphold after all." Ducky looked over at Palmer and Ziva, who were standing close to Tony, staring at McGee with a newfound respect.

"Now, Abigail, I want you to take Timothy's keys, since he is in no mood to drive, and I want you two to go to your houses and pack another overnight bag and return with it and the Christmas presents you both were intending to give us. Ziva, likewise. If you would like, you may also call Damon and invite him to come with you. Jimmy…" Palmer nodded to him, hurrying into the kitchen and setting a kettle of water on to boil.

Ducky waited until everyone had left and Jimmy had vanished into the kitchen, probably to start on the dinner preparations for the evening, before approaching the small family still on the floor. "Anthony, my boy, I believe both you and Jethro should retreat to the basement to discuss this matter. Michael, il mio bambino caro, let's go in the kitchen. I believe Mr. Palmer has some cookie dough that needs to be made for this evening. Perhaps you would like to help?" At the mention of cookies, Michael took his Nonno Donny's hand, allowing him to pull him into the kitchen, sucking on his thumb, a habit he only regressed to when he sensed something wasn't right with his parents and was worried.

Jethro helped Tony to his feet, and guided him to the basement stairs, firmly closing the door behind them.

.◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦.

* * *

When McGee and Abby returned a couple hours later, after eating a light lunch out so that Abby and McGee could talk each other down from committing a crime that might bring them under investigation by another Major Crime Response Team, it was to the sight of Michael playing with his Nonno Donny, Unca Jimmy, and See-vah on the run in front of the couch, excitedly moving his train around the more subdued adults. Tony and Jethro were nowhere to be seen, but a small sliver of light under the closed door to the basement gave away their location. Through the kitchen door, the scent of freshly baked sugar cookies wafted out and the sight of many racks filled with cooling cookies could be seen, along with several bowls of colorful frosting and various decorating tools.

McGee dropped his and Abby's bags by the staircase and sank into the available chair, heaving a deep sigh. "Merry Christmas Eve, huh?" The three adults on the floor smiled up at him, Jimmy with appreciation, Ducky with pride, and Ziva with respect. He was surprised by their expressions, but didn't get a chance to respond. The sound of a car door slamming caused everyone to look up with a frown, focusing on the front door. Minutes later a trunk slammed and the front door was nudged open. Jackson Gibbs, father to Jethro, peeked his head around the doorway. "A little help please?"

"Nonno Jack!" Michael barreled across the room and slammed his little body into Jack's legs, "How oo 'et hewe?" Jack chuckled and picked the toddler up, blowing raspberries on his tummy as Michael squealed with laughter.

"Well Bambino, wouldn't you like to know?" Jack outright laughed at Michael's affronted look, putting him back on the ground. "Where are Papa and Daddy?" Michael frowned, pointing to the closed basement door. "Daddy huwt. Cwyink." Michael looked worried, and began sucking on his thumb. "Okay, Ryan, why don't you help Nonno Jack unpack his car?" He turned and walked back out to where his luggage sat next to his car, followed by the five adults. He put Michael down and handed him a small white paper bag that smelled suspiciously like it was filled with Cannoli, and told him to go put it on the kitchen table. The toddler wrapped both arms around it, leaning back slightly, and slowly waddled back to the house, followed by Ducky, pulling a suitcase, Ziva carrying a heavy box that was completely wrapped in red wrapping paper, and McGee carrying a small duffel bag and sleeping bag which Jack told him to leave by the front door. Abby excitedly carried the camera case, stopping every few steps to open a new pocket or check out a new feature on the camera. Behind them, Jimmy and Jack exchanged some quick words before opening the back door of the car and gently removing a box, wrapped with peppermint striped wrapping paper and tied with green ribbon, which had several small holes in the top of it.

While Michael was struggling to lift the paper bag onto the kitchen table, Jimmy and Jack left their box on the porch and snuck the one Ziva had carried in under the tree. Ducky came back down the stairs followed by McGee, and the six adults laughingly watched Michael finally succeed.

Michael turned to them with a big grin, "I 'et Nonno Jack's pwesent! Put undew twee!" he squealed happily, darting off for the stairs. Just as he disappeared, the basement door opened and the light was switched off. Jethro led the way out of the basement, hand firmly clasped by both of Tony's, who followed blindly, his red eyes and flushed face focused on Jethro's impeccable, if slightly red, face.

"Dad?" Jethro blinked twice, pausing mid step. Michael came barreling down the stairs, placing his rather lumpy package under the tree next to a similarly lumpy package. "Papa! Nonno Jack!" Michael pointed at Jack to demonstrate his claim. Jethro dropped Tony's hand, stepping forward to hug his dad. "I see that Ry. I thought you couldn't make it..?" Tony grinned suddenly from behind Jethro. "Merry Christmas Jet, Ry."

Jack chuckled, "I'm gift numero uno!" Michael cocked his head to one side, "Daddy, what numewo uno?" "It means number one baby; Nonno Jack is your first Christmas present."

Michael squealed happily throwing himself at his Papa and Nonno Jack, wrapping and arm around each of their legs, "Grazie per Nonno Jack Daddy!"

Tony chuckled, "You're welcome Bambino… now why can't you say your 'R's in English?" He teased gently, spotting the Cannoli bag from the corner of his eye. He whooped, charging the kitchen. Jethro and Jack adopted identical smirks from their positions, Jethro's arm still around Jack's shoulders, Jack's hand on Michael's head from where it peeked between the two men's legs. Michael shook his head at his Daddy as he had often seen his Papa do. "Daddy haff pwoblem." He said it with such a serious face that everyone laughed, leaving Tony standing with a Cannoli halfway in his mouth and his face looking put out.

"Humph." Tony finished off the Cannoli, hoarding the bag and sitting on the farthest end of the couch. "Traitor." Everyone again laughed at Michael's affronted face, laughing even harder when he toddled over to his Daddy and crossed his arms, glaring up at him. "No name cawing! Papa say so." When Tony gaped down at him, he swiped a Cannoli from the bag, running to hide behind his Nonno Donny's legs as he began to eat it. Tony stared after him, "You ungrateful little thief!" he gasped melodramatically before pointing his finger at Jethro accusatorily, "He gets that from you." He joined in good naturedly as everyone continued to laugh, making their ways to seats. Jethro scooped up Michael and situated him on his lap next to Tony, stealing another of Tony's Cannoli, ignoring the glare Tony sent at him. He took a generous bite as Jack sank down on the couch next to him. Ducky sat in the chair and Ziva sat on the arm of the large recliner. Jimmy simply dropped to the floor and after a moment McGee followed him, leaving the remaining chair free to Abby. Michael held out the uneaten half of his Cannoli to Tony, asking, "Pwesen' time?"

Tony greedily finished the sweet treat, putting the bag on the end table next to the couch, out of Jethro's reach. Before Tony could answer Michael's question, Abby piped up. "You don't open presents on Christmas? And why doesn't he know about Santa Claus? Tony!"

Michael looked at her funny, cutting off any further comments. "Not weal. Fat man don' fit down chimininnys." "Chimneys baby, chimneys." He shot his father an exasperated look at the interruption, drawing adoring coos from Abby and chuckles from the men and Ziva. "An' I heawd Daddy say even if he zixted, he be too scawed of Papa to bweak in."

This comment prompted varying degrees of laughter, both at the comment and Michael's parents' expressions. Tony looked sheepishly at Jethro, his eyes glittering with amusement. Jethro looked back at Tony, his expression a mixture of humor and admonishment.

When the laughter died down, Abby repeated her first question. "Why do you guys open presents on Christmas Eve?" Tony blushed, looking down at Michael, who promptly disregarded his Daddy's discomfort and answered, "We 'o owf… owf.." He looked at Jethro frustratedly. "To the or-phan-age." Jethro finished to Michael's emphatic nod, sounding it out so that Michael could get the syllables correct. Tony spoke up, "We open our presents on Christmas Eve and have our family dinner then, because on Christmas Day we go to the local orphanage and spend the day with the children there. We cook Christmas dinner for the children and staff there, hand out presents, watch a movie, have a bonfire, and give those children a Christmas. No child should be alone on Christmas."

Jack ignored the tension that comment, and the tone Tony delivered it in, created, smiling gently at his sons and grandson, "It's not just Christmas either. They go every weekend they have off, every holiday they can, and they always make those kids feel like they have a family. It was Tony's idea, since his childhood was so rough. He's been going for close to nine years now." The explanation, tinged with great pride, prompted a moment of silence before Ziva piped up, "May we join you this year?"

Tony looked pleasantly surprised, "Of course Ziva, we were going to ask everyone to join us anyway." He smiled brightly, "But now, COOKIE TIME!"

.◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦.

* * *

A cartoon movie played on the widescreen, yet another piece of evidence that Tony cohabitated the house. Michael and Abby sat on the floor in front of it, craning their necks to watch it, mouths slightly open and bodies swaying to follow the characters on the screen. Ducky and Jack, the proud grandfathers, were sitting in the chairs, talking avidly about golf, Jack snapping pictures occasionally of the going-ons around them.

Jimmy and Tony were in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Tony stirred and tasted while Jim set the table, his cellphone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear as he talked to his fiancé, Brianna, who was spending Christmas in France with immediate and extended family as her father had ordered. Jethro and McGee were out on the front porch with a few bottles of beer and the box Jack had left by the corner of the railing.

Jethro leaned on the railing heavily, facing the collection of cars in his driveway and on the street beyond. McGee crouched next to the box, which had its lid beside it, with a hand inside it. Ziva returned from the bathroom, where she had been washing the last of the frosting off her face, and surreptitiously closed the curtains when she saw the contents of the box, joining Tony and Jimmy in the kitchen to help out with the feast that was rapidly burying the table.

"McGee." Jethro drew McGee's attention to him as soon as the curtains fell into place. "Thank you. I'm proud of the way you handled the situation. I appreciate you sticking up for Tony that way."

McGee met his eyes steadily, "He deserves it. Especially after the way I've treated him in the past. I placed doubt in his mind myself, and I'm still struggling to replace it with confidence in my faith in him. He's like a brother to me. The least I could do is defend him when he needed me to."

Jethro nodded, finishing his beer with a long pull, "Then I won't have to kill you for the Mexico incident." He referenced the earlier information about how the team had treated Tony for the months he had been retired in Mexico, turning to enter the house. "And McGee?" He stopped with his hand on the knob to open the door. "Yeah Boss?" "You ever swear in front of my kid again and I'll make sure you never have kids of your own." With that last comment he left McGee, catching his shudder and the muttered "Godfather in real life" comment as he scrambled to put the cover back on the box and enter the house. Maybe watching movies with Tony wasn't such a bad thing.

* * *

Hey guys and gals,

So there's obviously some confusion over whether Tony and Gibbs are married, and I promise that will be answered in the next few days.

Also, in case it wasn't clear, Sr. found out via P.I. A bit of a cop out on my part, I'll admit, but I honestly could see him doing exactly that. I know the show tries to draw a little sympathy for him, but I personally dislike him a great deal. This may or may not have made my presentation of him biased, but I won't apologize for it because, where he's a terrible person or just a negligent father, Tony deserves better! So, he's nasty about Michael because I thought it was appropriate and fed into the story well.

Finally, the next chapter won't be a continuation, but rather a deleted scene (Tony and Jethro in the basement for two hours... want to know why they came out flushed? *wiggles eyebrows*). The one following that will also be a deleted scene (COOKIE TIME!), and then the next chapter will be the literal Chapter 5. I have all three mostly done, with the exception of some last minute editing, so I should have them up either tomorrow or Tuesday.

And again I'll ask: are there any questions that anyone would like me to work the answers to into the story?


	5. Deleted Scene 1: Basement

He stumbled over the last stair, and would have fallen if it weren't for the hands guiding him; holding him up. The light at the top of the stairs was on, but the one hanging over the work station, where the bottom half of a large TV display case was taking shape, remained off. He was guided toward the comfortable chair in the corner, a secession on Jethro's part made when Tony told him that the stairs really weren't all that comfortable, but he liked sitting down here, watching him work, or simply closing his eyes and enjoying the closeness the two shared.

The hands were gone for a second, and he had an irrational surge of panic, a feeling of absolute loss, and then they were back, pulling him down to curl sideways across Jethro's lap, head tucked to shoulder. One arm wrapped around his low back, serving as a support in every sense, thumb rubbing gently across his abs, and the other crossed his chest to loop behind his shoulder and stroke short, soft hairs on the back of his neck. The chin tipped to allow the cheek to rest against his head, tucking him into a pocket of warmth and safety, calming the storm raging in his mind.

No matter how hard he tried, his father would always have a hold over him. And he would always use it to try to manipulate him and make his life difficult, without a second thought to whether Tony was actually benefiting from it or not... And damn, that hurt.

No, his father didn't love him. He had never loved him; his mother, perhaps, at one time long gone, but never Tony. And that stung… He was not loved. He was alone; he had no family. But no, that wasn't right… there was something pulling at both his heart and the corner of his mind, whispering urgently that that was wrong, that his father was wrong, that he wasn't alone. He tried to sort out his thoughts, imagining his office at NCIS, a home of sorts, the place he had worked at the longest, the place where… JETHRO! The whispered voice gained volume and power, but remained low, and he used it to help him sort out his thoughts. Yes, Jethro loved him; he had told him so, and Jethro wouldn't lie about that. So he focused on that low voice, using it like a rescue line, pulling himself out of his mind one hand over the other, other sounds and sensations filtering back in and helping to ground him.

He focused on the rhythm of that voice, the low vibrations generated by the chest under him, the calming rumble of it, and the soothing, calm, steady beat of Gibbs's- No, Jethro's- heart. He didn't have the mental energy to make out the words yet, and so he basked in the calm it brought him, in the feeling of love that both welled within him, and washed over him. Yes, he was loved.

He had no idea how long it had taken for him to bring himself back to reality; the reality beneath everything his father tried to make him believe; the reality beneath all the bullshit and degradation Vance piled on him; the reality that Jethro loved him, and he was worth something to someone. He knew that. He was a father, a lover, a friend, a brother, a son… And he didn't need either his father or Vance to be those things.

His insecurities, for the moment, were forgotten in favor of listening to Jethro. The words… no, they weren't just words. He was singing… in Italian. When had Jet learned Italian? He listened to the words, letting himself drift in the cloud of safety Jethro provided.

"… è come un vento di passione o una rosa rossa… il ricordo di un amore ci cambia e non ci lascia…" Yes, love changes us and the memory of it never leaves us… "Il ricordo di un amore viaggia nella testa, e non c'è una ragione quando cerchiamo quel che resta…" It was true… the memory of Jethro's love had reached him, even in the darkest parts of his mind… and he was right; there was no logic when he looked at everything else. What remained was insignificant to Jethro… "Se avessi avuto almeno un'occasione, adesso che so trovare le parole… ma il ricordo di un amore continua a viaggiare nella testa…" Yes, he knew how to find the words now, with the memory of Jethro's love firmly in mind, and he wouldn't wait any longer.

Tony pushed off from Jethro's chest slightly, lifting his head to face Jethro, "Ti amo, il mio Jet." Jethro reached up to hold Tony's chin steady, looking into his eyes intently. "I love you, my Tony." He whispered it harshly, fiercely, leaving no room for doubt as to the honesty of those words. He pushed forward, pulling Tony into a near punishing kiss. When he pulled back, Tony gasped in a breath desperately, his lips bruised, meeting Jethro's gaze with a steady gaze, his trust and love for Jethro clear in his eyes. "I know Jet… I know."

Jethro nodded, his eyes softening slightly, fluttering a little as Tony turned, straddling his lap instead of curling up in it. "Since when do you know Italian?" Tony asked it curiously, teasingly, yet Jethro knew that the answer mattered… and so he answered honestly, his eyes holding no guile. "Since I was nineteen… I learned it because Shannon wanted us to know another language; one we could pass on to Kelly. I haven't spoken it to anyone other than my girls since they died."

And suddenly, Tony saw it. Italian... a romantic language, yes, but for Jethro it meant more. It meant family, fatherhood, spousal love… and Tony was overcome by the wave of love that washed over him at the thought that Jethro trusted _him_, loved _him_, enough to share that piece of him that only Shannon and Kelly had been able to see before.

He leaned forward, covering Jethro's lips gently with his own, brushing his fingers over the corners of his eyes and up into his hair, lightly pulling on it. "Jet…" He shifted, lightly rubbing his hardening length over Jethro's, pulling back. "Tony… you don't…" "Let me Jethro… Let me show you." Jethro swallowed then let himself relax back into the chair, giving control to Tony.

Tony slid off Jethro's lap, his hand trailing down his chest and abs, briefly cupping his growing erection, before retreating to unbutton and unzip Tony's pants, revealing a lack of underwear. Jethro's breath caught in his throat, and all he could do was lift his hips as Tony pulled his pants and boxer briefs down his thighs, sliding them over his socked feet. Tony stepped back to survey his handiwork, licking his lips before shimmying out of his own pants to Jethro's moan, sliding his shirt over his head and dropping it casually on the growing pile of clothes, his feet bare and silent as he approached Jethro… _His_ Jethro; whose eyes had gone glossy, and whose fingers were clenched tightly on the arms of the chair, struggling to let Tony maintain control.

The sight of those whitened knuckles struck a chord deep inside Tony, tightening the knot growing in his gut, pulling on the strings of his heart. He unbuttoned Jethro's shirt, pushing it open to trace a finger reverently down the line of his abs, curling his fingers into the thatch of hair at the base of the heavy erection straining against his stomach. He pulled the hair gently, reveling in the jump of the cock in front of him, and sank to his knees, taking Jethro in to the root in a well-practiced move, his tongue flattening against the shaft, his throat swallowing convulsively around the head. He tasted Jethro's pre-cum, and pulled back to lap gently at the head, his tongue dipping into the slit, flicking gently, eliciting a shiver and quick, quiet inhalation from Jethro. He couldn't help but grin as he deep throated him one more time, sucking harshly and humming, pulling back at the hitch in Jethro's breathing.

Jethro had always been a quiet one, but Tony knew every sound, every movement, his body made in both pleasure and pain. With that thought in mind, he rose to once again straddle Jethro's lap, one hand unlocking a fist to intertwine their fingers, the other bracing Jethro's impressive erection, steadying and guiding it as Tony sank on to it, the burn ignored in favor of the way Jethro's pupils dilated, ice blue disappearing, swallowed by black desire. When his ass rested against Jethro's thighs and balls he clenched, his hand coming up to grab Jethro's shoulder as he rolled his hips.

Jethro's free hand grasped one of his cheeks, spreading him wider so he sank another half an inch, feeling the ends of those silvering hairs tickling his stretched rim. He moaned, twitching around Jethro's cock at the feeling, and Jethro suddenly thrust upward, flattening his hips and pulling at Tony's ass, pushing those last centimeters in until his balls rested firmly against Tony's rim. Tony's fingers dug into Jethro's shoulder, sure to bruise, and his breath hitched on a keen, the hand clasping Jethro's flexing sporadically as he trembled around his shaft. "Mmmm… Jethro…" "Ti amo, il mio Tone… il mio mondo." The Italian, whispered in Tony's ear, made his head fall to Jethro's shoulder, his hips rolling helplessly. Jethro thrust shallowly, stroking Tony's prostate repeatedly. Tony moaned helplessly, before suddenly flattening his palm on Jethro's shoulder, pushing himself up. His gaze met Jethro's as he slid his hand down to rest on Jethro's hip, pushing him back down as he lifted himself slowly, lowering himself again just as slowly, torturously pushing Jethro closer to the edge.

He kept the pace slow, pushing Jethro's hips down every time he tried to flex, keeping his eyes fixed intently on Jethro's. Finally, with a hiss of pleasure and a breathy moan of Jethro's name, Tony came, his eyes fluttering briefly, struggling not to sever the connection with Jethro's gaze. And Jethro, feeling both the love in Tony's eyes and the ever-tightening flutters around his cock, drew Tony's cheeks apart once more, thrusting up hard, releasing deep inside Tony, watching as Tony shuddered through a dry orgasm, the combination of his first orgasm, the aftershocks, and the solid thrust against his prostate overwhelming him, forcing a strangled "Jet..!" from his mouth as his eyes once again fluttered, this time closing for a moment, before reopening to see Jethro looking intently at him with the quiet intensity that always left Tony feeling loved, without a doubt in his mind about the certainty of that reality.

He slowly lowered his head to kiss Jethro, maintaining eye contact throughout the gentle, yet passionate exchange. Jethro liked to kiss with his eyes open, to observe his partner's minute expressions, and Tony always found that erotic. He rested his forehead against Jethro's, allowing his eyes to fall closed finally.

"Jet…" "Tone…" "I-" "I know." "Of course you do." Tony huffed out a laugh, "You always do…" Silence reigned for several moments as the men let their bodies settle. Tony shifted slightly, adjusting his weigh on his knees, trying to get more comfortable without moving his head or torso from where they rested against Jethro's.

Jethro hissed softly, and his cock twitched inside Tony, hardening again, growing, gradually exerting more and more pressure on Tony's prostate. Tony wiggled in exquisite torture, his breath hitching as Jethro brought both hands down to Tony's hips, holding them still. "Tone…" The name was more of a ragged moan than anything else, and Tony grinned. "Yes, husband mine?" He saved the nickname for special occasions, those rare moments where it was just them; a quiet moment early in the morning when Jethro was still asleep or barely roused, or when one of their heads rested in the other's lap trying to will away a headache brought on by a particularly hard case. When Jethro fumed over some idiot not doing their jobs, or mourning the loss of a victim they should have been able to save. Or, as was the case this time, when he wanted to be fucked with a fury born of possessive, jealous, all-consuming love.

And, as was always the case, Jethro gave him exactly what he wanted, wrapping an arm around his ass, supporting his weight, and another hand grabbing a handful of hair to both yank his head back and cushion it for the rough fall he was about to take.

Jethro abruptly stood, letting gravity pull Tony down further on his cock, the lip of the head slipping over his prostate, firmly pressing it in the process. Tony's breath came out in a long moan, and Jethro took a long stride, which pulled his cock out of Tony slightly, the lip of his cock's head catching on Tony's prostate and brutally sliding over it, dragging a keening cry from Tony as his hands desperately clutched at Jethro's shoulders, fingernails scratching at his back.

Jethro's mouth curled in a sneer as he laid Tony on the TV display he had recently sanded, pulling entirely out so that he could flip Tony over, dragging him into position. Tony's hands scrabbled for purchase as Jethro thrust brutally into him, pulling his hips back so as to make the contact to his prostate harsh, bordering on painful, and drawing a long scream from Tony. Anticipating his reaction, Jethro covered his mouth with his hand, absorbing the noise as he thrust in, taking a moment to observe the picture Tony made; his hands scratching at the wood he body was splayed across, his legs spread and hanging over the end of the display case, feet barely touching the floor, hips pulled back and up to meet Jethro's harsh thrust, head tipped back, eyes closed with tears of sexual pleasure gathering on the lashes, mouth open in a silent scream, toes curled, anus twitching around his cock, back tense and arching, begging for more, body flushed with arousal… God, he was gorgeous.

Jethro leaned down, the resulting shift of angle dragging a moan from Tony, "Quiet Tony, we have guests." His voice held a certain amount of gleeful sadism in it as he drew his hand back, removing the barrier between Tony and loud. Tony sobbed, one of his own hands coming up to cover his mouth, his eyes fluttering to look up tearily at Jethro. "Jet…" The sigh was barely audible, but it was all the permission Jethro needed. Bracing both hands on Tony's hips, he roughly pulled out and slammed back in, grinding his hips to Tony's before repeating the process. Tony's mouth fell open behind his hand, groaning shamelessly. Jethro grinned roughly, pushing Tony's hips up slightly so that his cock was on top of the wood, and the edge was clear of his balls, before using both hands to spread Tony's cheeks, watching as his cock pulled slowly out of Tony, watching as his hole pulsed, clinging to his erection, trying to suck it back in.

The sight drew a low moan out of Jethro, and he pulled out until Tony's rim bulged, stretched and white around the lip of the head of his cock, then pressed on his perineum with one thumb, the other scrapping its nail across the white skin and stretched muscle, reveling in the high sobbing keen it drew, the five white lines that appeared on the top of the wood as Tony clawed down it, his back bending as his hips drew up and his chest arched sharply, his legs drawing up, feet curling around Jethro's calves. Jethro gave a feral grin, thrusting quickly back in, watching as Tony's body eagerly drew him in. "Così avidi… proprio così, prende il mio cazzo." He reached around to grab Tony's balls with one hand, tugging gently while harshly pulling his head back by his hair with the other. He crushed his lips to Tony's, swallowing the moan. "Mi fai venire ogni volta, il mio piccolo puttano." He growled it against Tony's lips, feeling the silent scream as Tony came, his head thrown back on Jethro's shoulder, tears soaking his eyelashes and running down his cheeks. Jethro groaned deeply at the sight, his hips stuttering to a stop.

Without giving Tony a chance to gather himself, he pulled him up with an arm around his chest, pulling him off his cock to lower him to the floor, rolling him onto his back. He slammed his lips brutally against Tony's lax ones, plundering his mouth as he thrust back in quickly, managing only a handful of thrusts more before cumming in Tony, his dick pulsing against Tony's trembling prostate, forcing a scream out of Tony at the over stimulation, swallowing it with his own moan of pleasure as his cum painted Tony's insides, overflowing to drip down his sack and Tony's crack, pooling on the ground below them. He collapsed on Tony, his cheek resting on Tony's shoulder as their lungs labored together.

Finally he gathered enough strength to pull out of Tony's abused and reddened hole, feeling immensely proud at Tony's whimper and boneless state. He staggered over to his work station, grabbing a couple clean rags from his cabinet of staining materials, and returned to clean himself, Tony, and the floor, ignoring Tony's half-hearted moans as he scooped his cum out of Tony's ass. Tony's dick lay limp against his thigh, so he wasn't too worried about starting something. He tossed the rags onto the growing pile he had going in the corner, and gathered Tony in his arms, laying soft kisses on his forehead, ear, and cheek until Tony's eyelids fluttered open. Tony shot a dazzling grin at him, sitting up slowly, face still flushed. "I love you Leroy Jethro Gibbs. So damn much." Jethro grinned back, winking at him, "Back at'cha, il mio piccolo puttano." He laughed at Tony's blush, pulling himself up into a seated position, resting his elbows on his knees.

Tony took a moment to absorb the image of Gibbs, sweaty and flushed, sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up, wearing only his socks and an open button down shirt before his hand shot out, pulling his left arm toward him, tilting his head to read the watch. Crap… Jack should be arriving any minute… what to do, what to do… ah! "Jethro… we've been down here for somewhere around two hours… Are those cookies I smell?" He stood shakily, turning and bending to pick up his clothes, eyes closing on a soft moan when he felt Jethro's tongue flick his used hole. "Jet…" Jethro huffed out a laugh, also standing and getting dressed, eyes twinkling at Tony's pout and accusatory gaze. "C'mon Tone." He waited for Tony to finish dressing, then took his hand and led him up the stairs. He stopped at the landing at the top, releasing Tony's hand to smooth his hair and wipe the tear trails with his hand, drawing him close to kiss his forehead. He held his lips there for a second before stepping back, taking Tony's hand again and opening to door and stepping out into the living room, ignoring the Tony's eyes which were fastened on his face.

… "Dad?"

* * *

The English translation of lyrics to the song Gibbs was singing are as follows (it's a slightly rearranged, and very rough, version of Un Vento di Passione by Pino Daniele):

"It's like a wind of passion or a red rose  
the memory of a love changes us and doesn't leave us

The memory of a love travels in the mind  
and there's no logic when we look for what remains

If I had at least one occasion, now that I know how to find the words…  
But the memory of a love continues to travel in the mind"

Also, in case you didn't catch it, Tony did call Gibbs his husband… I'll explain more in the cookie scene because it's a little complicated.

Thanks for waiting, and all the reviews and encouragement. And thank you Glo, for helping me figure that out… you were right, it's a very touching scene. Still working out the minutiae, but it's very touching.

Finally, I would like some feedback on an idea that I have concerning the presents… Considering the amount of people, writing a detailed account of the exchanging of gifts will take a long time, and many words, so I'm thinking I'll just skip that part, finish the story, do my epilogue, and then add the present scenes, as deleted scenes, on to the end afterward. Is everyone okay with that?


	6. Deleted Scene 2: Cookies

The shouted "COOKIE TIME!" and the following squeals echoed in the living room as Tony, Jimmy, and Michael tore into the kitchen, excited noises and giggles bubbling out of them without restraint. After a moment of stunned silence, everyone else laughed, following them with joyful tears coursing down their cheeks.

When Ziva entered the kitchen she stopped short, everyone behind her bumping into her. "What happened? It looks as if a leprechaun has claimed this room as his own… and the rainbow exploded." Everyone else silently agreed with her assessment. On the counters were stacks of cooled, unfrosted cookies, and Jimmy was pulling the final tray out of the oven. There were cookies in every possible shape Christmas appropriate. From her position over Ziva's shoulder Abby noted the presence of Santa Claus, Mrs. Claus, Rudolph, the other reindeer, Keebler elves, a sleigh, Christmas trees in varying sizes, stars, angels, snowflakes, presents, bows, snowmen, houses with exaggerated chimneys, mittens, ornaments, and what looked like an entire set of the twelve days of Christmas…

She squealed. Ziva flinched, barely managing to keep on her feet as Abby pushed past her in the doorway, lunging toward the cookies, only to reroute at the sight of the colorful bowls of frosting adorning the small counter between the sink and refrigerator. Red, Blue, Purple, Pink, Brown, Orange, Forest Green, Lime Green, Yellow, Grey, White, Black… was that silver? Gold? How?... no matter, she saw turquoise and fuchsia! Again, right before reaching her goal, she rerouted toward the tools and plates, grabbing a handful of tools and a plate, emitting another squeal.

The other adults all ambled in, still chuckling, and picked up their own tools. After the cookies had been divvied up (Jethro got the twelve days of Christmas), Abby, Michael, Jimmy, Tony, Ducky, Ziva and Jack sat at the table while McGee and Jethro each had a counter section.

For half an hour, bowls were passed amid cheerful chatter. Under the direction of Abby, the trees and stars were finished and packaged away safely, followed by the snowflakes, presents, and bows. Then, in the process of passing a bowl, Jimmy 'accidentally' smeared a streak of pink frosting across Tony's cheek, prompting a brief but colorful frosting fight.

"Poo!" Brown streak on Jimmy's face. "Whiner!" Yellow glob on Tony's nose. "Jerk!" Red glob flies, Jimmy dodges, hits Ziva on cheek. "Immature!" Orange frosting hits Tony's chin and Michael's head. "Ba'!" Purple frosting hits Ziva dead between the eyes. "You're bad!" Blue frosting smeared across Michael's cheek by Jimmy. "Knock it off!" Abby waves a small spatula, accidentally splattering red on Ducky. "Why Abigail, if you wanted orange, you could have asked." Orange frosting smeared over Abby's nose. "Can I get in on this?" Five dollops of frosting hit Jack in the face, one 'misses' and hits Jethro in the ear. Turn, glower at 'innocent' Tony, silver frosting splatters Tony from hairline to chin. McGee turns to sneak out of room, Jimmy pounces, hot pink frosting coats McGee's face. "Coward!" Yellow, orange, and purple join it. A child's giggle and two green hand prints meet Tony's cheeks. Adult laughter, red frosting meets Jack's glasses, the splatter removing all visibility, leading to a smear of white frosting down Ducky's neck.

Red… Blue… Red… Yellow, Green… Orange… Blue… Pink… Red… Yellow… Purple… Silver… Red… Green, Gold, Black… White… Red… Blue… Orange… Pink, Purple… Silver, Yellow… Colors flew, usually making contact with a person, though the kitchen did not remain unscathed, particularly when Jethro tried to sneak up on Abby only to have his plan foiled by Tony smearing blue frosting down the back of his head, neck, and down into his shirt, laughing maniacally and alerting Abby to her impending doom in time for her to turn and swipe across his face with orange frosting before leaving him in the dust as she pounced on Jimmy, knocking several bowls of frosting to the ground, where they splattered spectacularly up Jethro from head to foot, coating the floor, counter, stove, and ceiling in the process.

His loud whistle cut through the air, causing everyone to freeze except for the gleefully giggling Michael, who rocked in his chair with mirth. "Go. Clean up. Jimmy, Abby, since you started it and made the biggest mess, clean the kitchen first… and make more frosting. Finish your cookies, then go get clean. McGee, Ziva, you have shift when they finish, so go get cleaned up now. Duck, Jack, if you want to finish your cookies and ignore the cleaning crew, go for it. Otherwise; you know where the guest bathroom is. Tony, Michael, you're with me. Don't look so worried, Michael, we'll finish after McGee and Ziva."

The little boy clapped his green hands at this, then pulled himself up on the chair, holding his arms out to his Papa. When Jethro picked him up, he patted his cheeks with his hands, giving him a set of handprints to match Tony's. Tony stood beside them with a hand on Jethro's shoulder, smiling at them. The team watched smilingly from the background, and Jack stealthily captured the image on film.

Jethro looked up at everyone, raising an eyebrow. Everyone snapped to their assigned tasks, and Jethro towed Michael and Tony upstairs with him. When they reached the master bathroom he handing the giggling boy to Tony, who cooed at him and blew raspberries on his tummy as Jethro drew a bubble bath. The stripped the squirming boy in the efficient way that only parents can, and lowered him into the Jacuzzi tub, alternately washing him and stripping, climbing in with him.

Jethro pulled Tony to rest against his chest, and they watched their son slap at bubbles, a baby grin plastered on his face. Tony sighed happily, "Vi voglio bene." Michael didn't respond, but Jethro turned his head to kiss him briefly, shoving his head underwater when he was done. Tony came back up sputtering, with a pile of bubbles on his head, glaring as ferociously as a wet kitten, which prompted a chuckle and tweaked nose from Jethro. "We love you too, Tone."

To appease his disgruntled husband, he reached out to remove the bubbles and wash his hair, smiling at the contently closed eyes and relaxed smile. Tony lost himself in the soothing motions, the gentle but firm massage… and dreamt. Of how he'd made it to this point… how he'd gained a 'husband' and son. Jethro's proposal… and _Aahhh_, _what a proposal it had been_. Cowboy style steaks, beer, Michael asleep upstairs; and Jethro by the fireplace.

_He reclined on the floor, his head resting on Tony's thigh, Tony's other leg drawn up to support the arm holding the plate from which he was feeding Jethro steak. His hand had come up to stroke Tony's chin, his eyes had taken on an unfathomable depth, and his other hand had pulled something out of his pocket. The hand on Tony's cheek wrapped around his neck, pulling him down. Lost in the kiss, the slow simmer that spoke of deep affection and emotional need rather than sexual tension and need for release, he didn't feel Jethro's hands move until the chain had been slipped from Jethro's neck to his own. He pulled back slowly, lifting his hand to feel what hung around his neck, to p__ick it up and turn it so that the firelight revealed the metal.__** Leroy Jethro Gibbs**__ scrolled across the metal, __**817657320G**__ flashing under it, accenting the fact that these were dogtags… Jethro's dogtags. And he had given them to Tony. His breath caught, but before he could say anything, the metal gleamed off something else; something newer, made of shining silver, and circular… the ring was too much, and Tony looked up at Jethro blankly, his mind unable to wrap around its presence and what that might mean._

"_Marry me, DiNozzo." "But… Don't Ask, Don't Tell… and gay marriage isn't legal in Washington D.C., Jet." "Doesn't matter. We don't need some paper or the public's approval. Wear my ring, my dogtags. We may not be able to make it official, but it will be real." "Jethro…" "Marry me, Tony." "Yes…" Tony breathed, lunging forward to kiss Jethro, hands shaking as they reach for his, only to find them cool and firm, a band matching Tony's on a chain in one. He broke out of the kiss, lifting it to fasten it gently around Jethro's neck, letting it fall to his chest, sitting over his heart. Mine, he thought, gently tugging on it; Mine._

Tony remembered the complete confidence with which Jethro had nearly ordered him, in a soft and steady voice, to be his husband, remembered the warnings of temper, tried patience, and obstinacy, remembered the whispered promises of forever and always… And snapped back to reality when Jethro flicked his nose.

"Where were you, mio marito?" The low rumble almost hid the knowing amusement.

"A fireplace, with a wonderful man full of romance and passion… I wonder where he's gone. Now I'm stuck with you." He kissed him lightly, ignoring the quick pinch to his ear, turning to bathe their son. The light scratches of nails on his back as his husband washed him brought goosebumps up all over his arms and sides, but he merely purred, focusing on the task at hand. When the group had finished washing, rinsed off, and toweled dry, they slipped on clean clothes, chasing Michael around the room with just enough seriousness to keep the game interesting for the giggling child. Finally, Gibbs swept Michael up, tossing him carefully on the bed, where Tony swooped down and wrestled the imp into clean clothes. One final round of tickles and cuddles was indulged in before the gang made their way down the stairs to finish their cookies.


	7. Chapter 5

Dinner was a lively affair, splashed with jokes, stories, baby pictures, laughter, and, when Abby noticed the chains around their necks, explanations. Once again, Jethro's reputation as a heartless bastard wobbled, threatening to tumble under Abby's coos of delight. When the dishes had been done and everyone had been situated in the living room, the presents were passed around, Jack and Jimmy documenting every gift and its reception with their cameras.

The team received their gifts first, varying from studded collars with matching boots to leather jackets and plane tickets for family visits to autopsy tools to beautiful hand-carved knives of hardened wood that would get through any security checkpoint. Michael, ever impatient, had pulled two identical lumpy packages from under the tree, handing one to Ducky and one to Jack, declaring that "Dis one Nonno Donny, an' dis one Nonno Jack," with a glare when Tony asked him how he knew which one was which, prompting laughter all around.

Ducky and Jack opened them simultaneously, revealing similar stuffed animals, the tags of which indicated they had been obtained at Build-A-Bear Workshop. Ducky's was a large grey duck with a small yellow duckling tucked under one wing and the words "I love you Nonno Donny" embroidered across its belly, while Jack's was a grey teddy bear cradling a smaller yellow bear with a press-me button on its foot. Jack squeezed the yellow bear's foot and a recording of Michael's voice proclaiming in a sing-song fashion, "I luwv oo Nonno Jack! Mewwy Chwissmas!"

"Thank you Michael," Ducky hugged the small boy emotionally, "I love you too. Very, very much." Jack reached over and snatched Michael from Ducky's grasp, "I love you too Bambino. More than that old fart." He laughed, wrinkling his nose at Ducky and hugging Ryan closer as he giggled. There was a flash of a camera and Jack stuck out his tongue at a smirking Jimmy, who snapped a picture of that as well.

Michael squirmed out of Jack's hold and toddled back to the tree, pulling out two more packages, one small and thin, the other a box, handing one to Tony and one to Jethro. He sat back on the floor, watching them with eyes far too serious for a two year old. He had asked Unca Jimmy for help with these ones when he had been babysitting him a few really long cases ago. Jimmy watched solemnly also, ready to document the reactions that he was sure would be spectacular… For a two year old, Michael had amazing insight, and the biggest heart Jimmy could imagine in a person.

Tony tore into his first, carefully lifting the box, labels indicating it was a personalize mug, from the tatters of wrapping paper, and opened it, withdrawing a baby blue mug. He rotated it carefully, observing it from all angles before setting it on the table next to the bag of Cannoli's and opening his arms for Michael. "Daddy loves you too, Ryan, so much." As he cuddled his son, Jimmy flipped back through the pictures, smiling at the different angles of the mug and expressions on Tony's face. The mug, which Jimmy had ordered at Michael's request, had "Best Daddy Ever" in black around the outside of the rim, and "I love you Daddy" around the inside of the rim. It also had a small black handprint labeled in very small font "Michael, age 2" on the front, which Jimmy had thought made the mug a much more personal and meaningful addition to Tony's constantly dwindling collection. Honestly, how did he keep breaking mugs?

Oh well, the conundrum of Tony's clumsiness would have to wait. Jethro had turned his present over to carefully undo the wrapping, folding it down so that he could see the paper clearly. It read "I love you Papa," in messy childish scrawl that indicated that Michael had fought Jimmy over how the crayon was supposed to move; some of the letters were backwards and capitalized at random. Jethro felt the corner of his mouth twitch, but restrained the smile, careful to keep his face blank as he flipped the paper… and promptly forgot that he was supposed to prevent Jimmy from documenting the presence of emotion in the feared, omnipotent, omniscience, and omnipresent Agent Gibbs. He stared for a moment, hand trembling almost imperceptibly, then leaned over to hug Michael fiercely, carefully placing the picture next to Tony's mug.

Before any more gifts were opened, Jethro stood. "I'm half-retiring." He made his announcement with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, and they reacted appropriately, staring at him in shock as he continued, "I've already put in my papers, and in two months time Tony will be the new Supervisory Special Agent of MCRT, and as such you will all be receiving a promotion. McGee, you'll be the new Senior Field Agent… and this time you won't get out of working like one. It will take some time to adjust to, but I expect you to step into the shoes with gratitude, respect, and dedication. Ziva, you're Junior Agent now. I expect you to keep Tony in line, and always have his back. No more foolishness, no more rash judgement calls. Rule eight: Never assume, always verify. You are the best agents, and it's long overdue. I'll have the personnel files on your desks when we get back to work; you'll want to select your new Probie carefully. I'll be a consultant, so when you have a particularly difficult case I can help. I will also be involved in the preparation of the Probies, so they damned well will come out better than they have been lately. Tony," here his eyes flashed, cutting off whatever Tony had finally gathered his wits enough to say, "it's a pay raise, and I'll have a more reliable schedule, so I can stay with Michael more. It's necessary, and it's time."

That said, he took his seat again, pulling badges from his pockets and tossing them to their respective owners, showing the promotion in rank. Then, he turned to Michael, who was now sitting among his presents, which consisted of two huge tubs of Lincoln logs, a couple cartoon movies, and piles of new clothes. Behind his back, Jackson moved out of the room, stepping outside to retrieve the box on the porch and bringing it back in to rest on the floor at his feet.

"Ryan, I know you wanted a puppy, but we just can't have a puppy home alone while Daddy and I are at work." Michael nodded solemnly, his disappointment evident. "So Nonno Jack brought you two." Michael blinked at him, then looked over at Jack, who had taken the lid off the box. Peeking out of the top of the box were two husky puppies, one red and white with warm brown eyes, the other black, grey and white, with piercing blue eyes. Michael squealed excitedly and crawled quickly to the box, his waddle too slow for him. He hugged the black one tightly, as the red one had ducked back into the box at the loud squeal. Jack showed him how to hold them gently and pet them, explaining that the darker one was a boy and the red one was a girl, and Michael adjusted his grip, giggling as the puppy's tail waved, hitting Jack's leg repeatedly.

The box suddenly tipped over as the red puppy tried to get out, sending her rolling out on the floor. Frightened, she tore around the room, crashing into Jethro's legs. She shrunk, whimpering, as Jethro peered down at her, then yipped excitedly when Jethro picked her up, ruffling her ears and letting her chew on his finger… which tasted like Cannoli. Her tail began waving too, softly hitting Gibb's chest. The final gifts were opened, until only Tony's gift to Jethro and Jack's large box, the heavy one that Ziva had toted inside, were left. Jack opened his box, "Since you have no pictures in the darn house… Makes me uneasy," pulling a great many photo frames out, setting them up along the mantle over the fireplace, previously empty except for the miniature ship contained in a glass bottle.

One by one he lined them up. Tony pretending to be an airplane with Michael clinging to his back, laughing as they ran through the sprinkler, the sun casting a rainbow in the mist behind them. Jethro, Jimmy and Ducky playing horseshoes in Jack's backyard. Jimmy and Tony pushing Michael on an old rope swing, heads tipped back in laughter. A soaked Jethro and Ducky sneaking up on a hiding Jimmy, Tony, and Michael with water balloons in hand and evil grins on face as Jimmy and Tony desperately tried to shush Michael's giveaway giggles. Jimmy and Tony standing in an oak tree, dropping acorns into the bright red bucket held by Michael, Jethro crouching behind him to help support the unsteady toddler. Ducky reading to Michael under the shade of the same tree, while Jethro and Tony could be seen holding hands and smiling quietly to each other in the far corner of the field. Tony holding Michael in the rocking chair on Jack's front porch, both of them asleep. Jack tossing Michael up into the air, Michael's mouth open in a delighted scream. Jack, Ducky, Jimmy and Tony smiling and surrounding a sleeping Jethro, who was sitting in a rocking chair with Michael tucked against his chest, sucking his thumb and staring at the camera solemnly. Jethro, head pillowed on his own arm and obviously just waking up, looking up at Tony who was propped up on his elbow next to him and smiling down at his face with an intense look of love, a sleeping Michael resting on Jethro's chest facing the camera, thumb just barely in his mouth, Jethro's hand resting gently on his back, holding him in place.

Each picture was allowed to hold the group's attention for a long moment before the next was put on the mantle. Jack reached into the box for the last time, pulling out two larger frames, one containing three pictures, the other containing four. The first frame was the color of lake water and had abstract fish etched out of it. Within the frame, a sheet of light beige surrounded the three pictures, accenting their color as well as their connection to each other. The first was a photograph of Jethro bending over a life jacket clad Michael, showing him how to fish. The second showed Jethro and Michael in the process of pushing Tony off the dock, fishing poles forgotten on the ground behind them. The final one depicted Tony, Michael, and Jethro having a splash battle in the water past the dock.

The second frame was fire-engine red, and contained white paper within it, surrounding four pictures: Michael crouching next to a new litter of puppies, staring at them in awe, Michael crossing his eyes to stare at the dragonfly that had just landed on his nose, Michael gleefully dropping a water balloon on a sleeping Ducky's head, and Michael sitting with one hand in his red bucket, the other holding an acorn out to a curious squirrel.

The last frame drew adoring squeals from Abby, and she immediately tried to bully McGee into finding a hammer and some nails, insisting on hanging the frames at once. While McGee and Ziva tried to convince her that wasn't a good idea, and Gibbs and Tony should hang the pictures themselves, Tony exchanged his own package, the final present, with Gibbs, taking the now-sleeping red husky puppy from him, cuddling her under his own chin with ill-concealed anticipation. Jethro again carefully opened the wrapping paper, revealing a thick, legal-sized yellow envelope and partially withdrew the stack of papers from within. Tony couldn't restrain the slight burst in happiness at the flash of pure joy that flitted through Jethro's eyes. "You, mio marito, are now legally a Papa." Gibbs slid the envelope under the picture on the table, then swiftly kissed Tony, settling back on the couch, his eyes suspiciously wet for a moment, after which he cut into the ongoing discussion.

"No one is hanging any pictures right now. We have bigger issues to fix than my home's sparse wall décor. No, not Vance.-" He cut Ziva off, "How we're going to keep our secret now that everyone's seen it." Michael, remained blissfully unaware that they were talking with him, still romping with his new puppy, which he had already began calling Boss. "It won't be easy, but worthwhile things rarely are. Now, Abby, you're going to tell anyone who asks that the little boy Tony carried in was an angle on an ongoing case, and was, in fact, a child who we had found on a raid the night before, and was waiting to be picked up by his mother. If anyone has any further questions, you can send them to me. That is the extent of your knowledge on the subject. Ziva, McGee, Tony, you just aren't allowed to comment on an ongoing case. Jimmy, Ducky, you didn't have a chance to meet the child, but you know that we were working on a possible pedophilia angle on one of our cases. Again, any further questions, steer them to me." He looked around, making sure everyone understood their part. "I'll deal with Vance. Now, let's clean up and grab snacks. We're about to start _It's A Wonderful Life_." He herded everyone into the kitchen, leaving an empty living room behind, the combination of firelight and the lights from the tree illuminating the end table. One top of it, next to a baby blue mug, rested a picture of two men labeled "Papa" and "Daddy" holdings hands over the head of a little boy labeled "Ryan", crossing their free hands across their bodies to join hands with his. The arms of the three of them formed a heart, and above that heart floated two angels, a redhead and a brunette, labeled "Shannon" and "Kelly." The bottom of the paper read simply: "Our Family."

* * *

Three chapters left. Any last questions or requests? The issue of how Vance is going to be handled/forced to play along will be addressed shortly, so that's not a concern... but anything else?


	8. Chapter 6

The air was crisp, their breath forming clouds of mist in front of their faces as they crossed the parking lot. The building in front of them was quiet; the only sign of life the faces flickering across the windows, peeking out from behind blinds. The snow glistened, and melting icicles dripped softly. The door opened before anyone had a chance to knock, ring a bell, or otherwise ask entrance.

"Tony!" A girl, looking like she was just about to enter her teens, threw herself at Tony, laughing as he caught her, enveloping her in a bear hug. Suddenly the house was full of life as children seemed to appear from the woodwork, running over to greet the family of men that was always around. Ziva, McGee and Abby stood back as the others fought their way through the door. A boy who looked like he was getting too old to remain in the orphanage grabbed Michael, swooping him into the kitchen where Ducky, Jimmy, and Jack were depositing their packages of cookies and other foodstuffs, preparing to cook the annual Christmas feast.

Gibbs, surrounded by a throng of children, quickly disappeared to the back yard, where an extremely loud game of ultimate Frisbee began. Tony smiled affectionately after him as he was almost shoved out the door, then turned to the three adults standing in the front door as if they were lost. "Guys. C'mon. They don't bite, I swear." The muttered "Much." was heard by all, as was intended, judging by the gleeful smirk on Tony's face.

Despite reluctance in Ziva's gaze, the three of them were quickly roped into the festivities; McGee had no sooner been introduced when he was coerced (with very little resistance) into joining the video game tournament taking place down the hall in the media room. When Tony checked on him an hour later, he had been chosen to lead the campaign, and all the children were differing to him, in awe of his prowess. Abby was also quickly integrated into the chaos, and disappeared into the rather spacious common area with the majority of the remaining children, leaving Tony and Ziva with the same girl who had tackled Tony, two identical little girls, and a boy who looked to be around seven years old.

Tony gently herded the kids upstairs to the smaller common room that overlooked the back yard, where they had an amazing view of Gibbs calmly snatching the Frisbee out of the air as if he had ordered it to fly directly into his hand. Ziva, who had tagged along silently, followed Tony's example and sat on the floor. Her expression, one Tony would forever lament not immortalizing on film, as the little boy promptly plopped down beside her and leaned against her, was shocked.

"Ziva, this is Karim. He has only been here for a couple weeks; before that he lived with his older sister." He reached over to smooth the dark curls, only smiling when the brown eyes watched him warily, internally thanking God when the child didn't flinch away as he usually did. "Karim, this is Ziva. She's from Israel, but she works for NCIS with myself and Jethro now. She's a super ninja!" His eyes widened for effect, and Karim's eyes widened in response, his head swinging around to face Ziva. Her own eyes belied her surprise when he rapidly started speaking Hebrew, his hands gesturing wildly.

Tony smiled and turned to the three girls, leaving Karim and Ziva to their newfound connection. "Emmalyn." He reached out to ruffle the straight brunette hair, laughing as she sat beside him and pretended to sulk, blue eyes laughing. "Rosalie, Lilliana, come here sweethearts. How are you?" The four year olds, dark auburn hair curling wildly and identical brown eyes peeking over liberally freckled cheeks and button noses, giggled and promptly sat on top of him and Emmalyn, cuddling into their respective chests and listening avidly as Tony and Emmalyn began telling them (for the umpteenth time) the story of two little girls who were all alone until one day a mommy and daddy with no little girls saw how pretty and sweet and kind and honest these little girls were, and they took them home and made them cookies and the new family lived happily ever after.

.◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦.

* * *

As everyone crowded into the large common area on the first floor with plates piled high with food, Gibbs was opening the front door to let in the many families joining them. Over the past couple years many of the children had been adopted, but some of the families were charmed by the tradition Jethro and Tony observed every holiday, and often participated. Several of the children who had moved out when they came of age also returned for the holiday. Tony, Jethro mused, had turned a sterile, normally hated institution into a home, much as he had with Jethro's own house. Jethro smiled as he let the last of the families in, turning to take Jackie Vance's coat and hang it on the far-overloaded coat rack. "Glad you could make it."

Last night he had called the Vance household with the intention of talking to the Director, but had ended up talking to Jackie in his stead, as he had refused to talk with Gibbs.

"_Hello?"_

"_Hello Jackie, it's Jethro. How are you and the kids?"_

"_We're doing well, thank you. They actually just finished their homework and are currently playing games with their father."_

"_May I speak with him?"_

"_Of course! He's right here!... What do you mean you won't talk to him? What's going on Leon?... If it's nothing then why don't you want to talk to him?... Well obviously it is!.. Leon!" She sighed into the phone as the sound of a door slamming echoed over the line. "Well, that didn't go as planned."_

"_That's quite alright. I was calling to invite the family to join myself and the other members of my team for a Christmas feast at the Orphanage. Tony and I have been putting together a large dinner for the children for a couple years, and this year we want to include everyone."_

"_That's a fantastic idea! I'm sure the kids would love that! They have several friends from the orphanage, and were going to invite them over to our house for dinner, but it seemed unfair to the rest of the children. What a great idea! We'll definitely be there. Oh, and Jethro?"_

"_Yes Ma'am?"_

"_What is going on between you and my husband?"_

_Jethro, well aware that it was underhanded but positive that it would drive the point home in the most effective way possible, had no problems educating Jackie about the recent misbehaviours of her husband, after which there was a civil goodbye and a promise from Jackie that she would "talk to him about it."_

Now, as the children brushed by him with a cursory hello to track down their friends and food, and Jackie walked over to greet Ducky, Gibbs faced Vance. "Leon."

"Agent Gibbs." There was a moment when the two eyed each other, but it was broken when Michael toddled over to Gibbs's leg, patting it with a hand. "Papa… Papa!"

"Yes Ryan?"

"ee!"

"I'll eat with you in a minute Ry, go sit with your Daddy."

"'tay." Michael toddled off unsteadily, making chewing motions and humming to himself.

Leon's face was a mixture of anger, amusement and shock. "You know DiNozzo's son?" When Jethro shot him a look he blinked, pulling a toothpick out of his pocket. "Of course you knew. DiNozzo can't keep secrets from you. But why the personal call to my house?" Jethro's face remained unchanging, continuing to wait patiently for him to realize what it meant. It took a few minutes. "Seriously?! You and DiNozzo? No…" "It's reality Leon." "More like the crazy lies beneath reality." "More like the reality beneath the crazy lies." "This has got to be a joke."

Jethro finally moved, turning to head toward his family, "We'd like to contain this 'mess' Leon, so I'm confident that you'll keep this information to yourself…" Leon made a noise of agreement, though Jethro was sure it was more for fear of his wife's temper than desire to protect Jethro, Tony, or Micheal. "Oh, and Leon? Don't ever insult my son again." He walked away, leaving Leon torn between amusement and genuine fear.

.◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦..◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦∙҉∙◦ᵒ°̥ᵒ◦.

* * *

Leon sat at the small table in the kitchen, nursing a glass of (unfortunately) non-alcoholic punch, and watching the scene in front of him. DiNozzo was once again goofing off, horsing around with the children, while Gibbs watched stoically from a chair nearby. His… son… sat with Ducky, seemingly enthralled by the story the man was telling him and the surrounding children. Abby and McGee were in another room, playing games with Leon's own children and their friends, and Jackie was directing the cleaning efforts, led by Jack, Ziva, and Jimmy and manned by several willing helpers.

It seemed as if everyone was going about their normal lives, and here Leon was, mourning the apparent loss of sanity surrounding him. _I mean, this is friggin' not right! This is so weird…_ He looked over at Jethro, trying to fathom how reality had gone so wrong, and how the feared Leroy Jethro Gibbs, who's résumé of divorces had to be a world record, could be in a homosexual relationship with his brunette subordinate who has a child who he considers his own who he was smiling at… Leroy Jethro Gibbs was smiling… Reality was so wrong.

DiNozzo caught Jethro's eye and mouthed something Leon couldn't make out, but Jethro's eyes seemed to soften and his face lightened, shoulders straightening a little, seeming to drop years off his appearance. And yes, Leon could make out the reply Jethro almost imperceptibly mouthed back that prompted the brightest smile from DiNozzo that he had ever seen. _Perhaps…_ Leon winced and gulped the last of his drink, staring glumly into the bottom of his empty glass, mourning the loss of his less-complicated reality-turned-illusion.

_Perhaps_… Michael's delighted laughter rang out and then he was toddling across the room to his Daddy, who swept him up with a loud laugh of his own and blew raspberries on his tummy and neck, prompting more laughter and smiles all around. Jethro's eyes softened further, even crinkling at the corners a little. He looked happy in a way that Leon had only seen once, and the Jethro in that picture had been much younger and holding a little laughing brunette girl. It was nice not to see his face closed off and his eyes haunted by loss.

_Perhaps…_ Jackie was looking at them approvingly in a way that only a mother can. Her eyes reflected a myriad of emotions, not the least of which was relief, making Leon wonder if he had been missing some information about the agent he had worked with for years and respected. And then Jethro laughed, and Leon turned to the noise to see Tony draped over his shoulders, Michael seated in his lap and gesturing wildly to his Papa. That child was cute… he had waved at Leon during dinner and told him that he should smile more (or at least that's what Leon thought he had said… He was entirely sure; the majority of it had been a mixture of Italian and baby-speak). He looked back at Jackie, surprised to see satisfaction covering her face and tears filling her eyes. Then again, she had always seen straight into the heart of the pain in Jethro and Tony (the one time she had met him), and had often asked concernedly after them when she knew they had closed a particularly daunting case. Maybe now she would stop pestering him to invite them over or give them more time off... Oh, how he could hope.

_Perhaps, _he thought, standing to refill his glass, _sometimes reality isn't all it seems; sometimes yours isn't truly reality; sometimes it takes a child to bring you back to it; sometimes it takes a grown man; sometimes is seems to fall short of your expectations and dreams; sometimes... sometimes it's just better._


End file.
